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A   POLITICAL   ROMANCE 


A  Political  Romance 

BY 
LAURENCE   STERNE 

[  1759] 

An  Exadt  Reprint  of  the  First  Edition 

With  an  Introduction  by 

WILBUR  L.  CROSS 

Author  of"  The  Life  and  Times  of  Laurence  Sterne  " 


BOSTON 

THE  CLUB  OF  ODD  VOLUMES 
1914 


Copyright,  1914* ty 

THE  CLUB  OF  ODD  VOLUMES 

of  Boston. 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  first  edition  of  A  Political  Romance 
(1759),  reprinted  here  for  the  first  time, 
is  a  rare  pamphlet  from  the  pen  of  Laurence 
Sterne.  Indeed,  it  was  supposed  until  recently 
that  this  specimen  of  Sterne's  humor,  antedat- 
ing ^Tristram  Shandy ;  existed  in  no  other  form 
than  the  one  given  it  the  year  after  Sterne's 
death  in  an  edition  brought  out  by  a  London 
bookseller  named  Murdoch,  with  the  assist- 
ance perhaps  of  John  Hall-Stevenson,  the  au- 
thor's intimate  friend.  The  title-page  of  that 
edition  runs:  — 

"A  Political  Romance,  Addrefled  to 


Efq.  of  York.  London  Printed  and 

fold  by  J.  Murdoch,  bookfeller,  oppofite 
the  New  Exchange  CofFe-houfe  in  the 
Strand.  MDCCLXIX." 

It  is  a  duodecimo  volume,havingan"Adver- 
tifement"  (pp.  i  v-ix)  and  a  list  of  the  characters 
in  the  allegory  with  their  real  names  opposite 
(p.  x).  The  Romance  itself  covers  forty-seven 
pages.  In  the  "Advertifement"  the  editor  or 
bookseller  says:  "This  little  piece  was  written 
by  Mr.  Sterne  in  the  year  1759,  but  for  private 


reafons  was  then  fuppreffed.  The  recovery  of 
this  fatirical  performance  from  oblivion,  as 
worthy  of  fo  mafterly  a  pen,  will,  it  is  hoped,  be 
a  fufficient  excufe,  with  all  lovers  of  literary 
merit,  for  thus  bringing  it  to  public  view." 

Murdoch's  edition,  several  times  reprinted 
by  other  booksellers,  was  afterwards  incorpor- 
ated in  the  humorist's  collected  works  of  1 7  80, 
with  a  new  title:  The  History  of  a  Good  Warm 
Watch-Coat  ...A  Political  Romance.  All  subse- 
quent editors  have  taken  the  text  as  they  found 
it  here,  and  have  interpreted  Murdoch's  remark 
that  the  pamphlet  was  suppressed  to  mean  that 
it  was  not  published  during  the  author's  life- 
time. It  was  laid  by,  even  the  biographers  have 
declared,  in  Sterne's  desk,  and  at  most  circu- 
lated only  in  manuscript.  Hall-Stevenson,  it 
has  been  assumed,  had  one  of  the  manuscripts, 
which  he  placed  in  Murdoch's  hand  for  publi- 
cation. 

A  clue  to  the  existence  of  an  edition  of  A 
Political  Romance  earlier  than  Murdoch's  was 
derived  from  A  Memoir  of  the  York  Press,  1868, 
by  Robert  Davies,  a  most  accurate  anti- 
quary. While  he  was  writing  his  book  he  had 
access  to  the  valuable  collection  of  Edward 
Hailstone,  Esq.,  of  Horton  Hall,  Bradford, 
England,  and  there  he  saw  a  copy  of  the  first 
edition  bearing  the  date  1759.  On  Mr.  Hail- 
stone's death  in  1 8  90,  this  copy  came  to  the  Li- 


[iii] 


brary  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  York,  where 
it  was  uncovered  in  September,  1905.  A  few 
weeks  later  another  copy  was  found  in  a  vol- 
ume of  pamphlets  at  the  York  Subscription 
Library.  Still  another  copy,  bound  with  other 
tracts,  was  discovered  the  next  year  in  the  Li- 
brary of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  So  far  as 
it  is  known,  no  other  copies  are  extant.  In  none 
of  the  three  cases  was  the  librarian  aware  that 
he  had  in  his  possession  an  anonymousyV#  cT es- 
prit by  Laurence  Sterne. 

Our  reprint  is  from  a  beautiful  transcript  of 
the  Hailstone  volume  made  by  Miss  Elizabeth 
Hastings  of  London.  She  followed  the  text  line 
by  line  and  page  by  page,  and  the  present  edi- 
tion reproduces  so  accurately  the  typography 
and  the  paging  of  the  original  that  no  biblio- 
graphical description  is  needed  here.  By  com- 
paring the  reprint  with  the  usual  text  of  the 
Romance,  the  reader  may  see  how  ruthlessly 
Murdoch  mutilated  Sterne.  To  be  brief,  he 
"corrected"  the  humorist's  English,  substitut- 
ing "elegant"  phrases  for  quaint  and  homely 
idioms,  and  cut  away  the  entire  Key  and  two 
long  letters  that  go  with  it.  —  "Alas  !  Poor 
Yorick!" 

To  understand  Sterne's  humorous  pamphlet, 
one  must  have  in  mind  the  circumstances  in 
which  it  was  written;  otherwise  nothing  can  be 
made  of  it.  After  graduating  from  Jesus  Col- 


[hr   ] 

lege,  Cambridge,  Sterne  entered  the  ministry 
of  the  Church  of  England  and  settled  as  Vicar 
of  Sutton-on-the-Forest — a  small  village  eight 
miles  to  the  north  of  the  city  of  York.  Through 
the  influence  of  his  uncle,  Dr.  Jaques  Sterne, 
Precentor  to  York  Minster  and  Archdeacon  of 
Cleveland,  he  was  appointed,  early  in  1741,  a 
prebendary  in  the  Cathedral.  Thenceforth  to 
the  end  of  his  life  he  was  a  member  of  the 
York  Chapter,  composed  of  the  Dean,  canons, 
and  prebendaries,  for  the  management  of  all 
affairs  connected  with  the  Cathedral.  Within 
the  Chapter  there  was  a  good  deal  of  maneu- 
vering, whenever  a  small  office  fell  vacant,  in 
the  interest  of  friends;  and  at  times  friction 
arose  between  the  Dean  and  the  Archbishop 
over  the  real  or  apparent  encroachment  on 
each  other's  rights. 

The  first  Archbishop  of  York  that  concerns 
us  was  Matthew  Hutton,  who  disliked  Sterne 
and  took  sides  against  him  in  a  quarrel  that 
sprang  up  between  Laurence  and  his  uncle 
Jaques.  In  the  spring  of  1757,  Archbishop 
Hutton  was  translated  to  the  see  of  Canter- 
bury. His  successor  at  York  was  Dr.  John  Gil- 
bert, for  some  years  Bishop  of  Salisbury.  He 
was  an  amiable  gentleman,  most  friendly  to- 
wards Sterne,  but  without  the  strong  hand  ne- 
cessary to  check  intrigues.  Physical  infirmities 
coming  upon  him,  he  rarely  left  his  palace  at 


Bishopthorpe,  two  miles  south  of  York.  With 
the  Dean  —  Dr.  John  Fountayne  —  Sterne 
had  been  acquainted  since  their  college  days 
together  at  Cambridge.  They  were  fast  friends. 
The  Dean  spent  much  of  his  time  at  Melton 
Manor,  the  family  seat  in  South  Yorkshire,  and 
so  could  not  always  know,  any  more  than  the 
Archbishop,  what  occurred  at  York.  He  was 
a  colorless,  good-natured  ecclesiastic,  inclined, 
however,  to  insist  upon  his  prerogatives. 

The  diocese  had  an  arch  intriguer  in  Dr. 
Francis  Topham,  the  leading  ecclesiastical  law- 
yer at  York,  the  official  adviser  to  the  Arch- 
bishop, to  the  Dean,  and  to  many  of  the  minor 
clergy.  Never  satisfied  with  the  positions  that 
he  held,  he  was  always  scheming  for  more.  In 
the  autumn  of  1748,  he  fomented  a  quarrel 
between  Archbishop  Hutton  and  Dean  Foun- 
tayne over  the  appointment  of  preachers  to  the 
Cathedral.  The  Dean,  it  was  averred,  ordered 
the  pulpit  locked  against  a  prebendary  chosen 
for  the  day  by  the  Chancellor  of  the  diocese. 
For  his  defence  of  the  Archbishop's  rights  on 
this  and  other  occasions,  Dr.  Topham  was  ap- 
pointed, in  1751,  Commissary  and  Keeper- 
General  of  the  Exchequer  and  Prerogative 
Courts  of  the  Archbishop  of  York,  —  the  most 
comfortable  legal  office  within  the  gift  of  his 
Grace.  Near  the  same  time,  the  Commissary- 
ship  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  worth  twenty 


pounds  a  year,  fell  vacant  by  the  death  of  Dr. 
Mark  Braithwaite,  an  advocate  in  the  ecclesi- 
astical court.  Dr.  Topham  made  a  grasp  for 
that  office,  but  missed.  The  place  was  given  to 
William  Stables,  another  ecclesiastical  lawyer. 
Thereupon  Dr.  Topham  made  a  grasp  for  the 
Commissaryship  of  the  Peculiar  Court  of  Pick- 
ering and  Pocklington,  which  had  likewise  be- 
come vacant  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Mark  Braith- 
waite. This  office,  valued  at  six  pounds  a  year, 
he  missed  also;  the  Dean  generously  presented 
it  to  his  friend  Laurence  Sterne.  Over  these  ap- 
pointments Dr.  Topham  raised  a  loud  clamor. 
Had  not  the  Chapter  been  packed  against 
him,  he  declared,  he  would  have  got  the  first ; 
and  had  the  Dean  kept  his  solemn  promise,  he 
would  have  got  the  second.  The  quarrel  rose  to 
its  height  at  a  dinner  of  the  York  clergy,  where 
the  Dean  and  Sterne  denounced  him  as  a  liar. 
Thereafter,  Dr.  Topham  kept  reasonably 
quiet  for  several  years  —  until  the  advent  of 
Dr.  Gilbert  in  1757.  On  first  meeting  the  new 
Archbishop,  the  lawyer  told  him  that  he  would 
find  it  very  difficult  to  live  upon  good  terms 
with  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  for  they  were  a  set 
of  strange  people.  The  Archbishop,  however, 
might  be  assured  that  he  would  have  a  zealous 
champion  in  all  disputes  which  might  arise. 
Needless  to  say,  Dr.  Topham  saw  to  it  that 
petty  disputes  did  arise  over  questions  con- 


[vii] 


cerning  leases  of  Cathedral  property  and  the 
proper  method  of  inducting  prebendaries.  It 
was  not  his  intent  to  force  these  differences  to  a 
breach  between  the  Dean  and  the  Archbishop ; 
but  rather  to  ingratiate  himself  into  favor  at  the 
palace  so  that  Dr.  Gilbert  might  be  kindly  dis- 
posed to  a  new  and  questionable  scheme  on 
which  his  heart  was  now  set.  On  searching  the 
records,  he  had  discovered  that  the  patent  of 
the  Commissaryship  of  the  Exchequer  and 
Prerogative  Courts — his  best  paying  office  — 
had  formerly  been  granted  and  enjoyed  for  two 
lives  instead  of  for  one  life,  as  was  then  the  cus- 
tom. He  naturally  wished  a  revival  of  the  good 
old  times.  So  he  went  to  the  Archbishop  in  the 
summer  of  1 75 8,  and  asked  him  for  permission 
to  open  his  patent  of  the  office,  which  read  for 
one  life  only,  and  "to  add  the  life  of  another 
proper  person  to  it,"  meaning  thereby,  as  it 
quickly  transpired,  the  name  of  his  own  son. 
That  son,  then  a  mere  boy,  lived  to  be  Edward 
Topham,  playwright  and  libertine. 

The  Archbishop  was  inclined  to  agree  to 
the  plan  out  of  gratitude  to  Dr.  Topham  for 
his  many  services;  but  the  Dean  and  Chapter, 
whose  concurrence  was  necessary  to  complete 
the  transaction,  were  hostile  to  the  proposal. 
That  the  question  of  the  appointment,  which 
threatened  to  divide  the  Church  of  York,  might 
be  settled  peaceably,  the  Dean,  Dr.  Topham, 


and  several  others  were  summoned  by  the 
Archbishop  to  meet  at  Bishopthorpe  on  No- 
vember 7,  1758,  fora  general  conference.  The 
two  chief  dignitaries,  who  had  been  misrepre- 
sented, each  to  each,  by  the  intriguing  lawyer, 
found  themselves  agreeably  of  one  opinion : 
that  it  was  inadvisable,  notwithstanding  an- 
cient precedent,  to  grant  the  valuable  patent 
for  more  than  one  life.  The  lawyer,  enraged  at 
this  decision,  says  Sterne,  "huffed  and  bounced 
most  terribly,"  threatening  everybody  from  the 
Archbishop  down  to  a  timid  surgeon,  one  Isaac 
Newton,  who  gave  the  story  of  the  conference 
to  the  coffee-houses.  Nothing  coming  of  these 
angry  violences,  Dr.  Topham  decided  to  ap- 
peal to  the  public  against  the  Dean,  whom  he 
charged  with  working  upon  the  sick  man  at 
Bishopthorpe.  So,  during  the  second  week  in 
December,  was  launched  his  anonymous  pam- 
phlet entitled  A  Letter  address  d  to  the  Rever- 
end the  Dean  of  York ;  In  which  is  given  A  full 
Detail  of  some  very  extraordinary  Behaviour  of 
his^  in  relation  to  his  Denial  of  a  Promise  made 
by  him  to  Dr.  'Topham.  Though  the  sixpenny 
pamphlet  set  out  to  deal  principally  with  the 
commissaryship  that  fell  to  Sterne,  it  neverthe- 
less touched  upon  all  the  quarrels  of  a  dozen 
years.  Two  weeks  later,  the  Dean  had  ready 
his  retort  courteous,  which  bore  the  title :  An 
Answer  to  a  Letter  Addressed  to  the  Dean  of 


[ix] 


Tork,  in  the  Name  of  Dr.  Topham.  A  feature  of 
this  very  skilful  reply  was  a  formal  declaration, 
signed  by  Laurence  Sterne,  as  to  what  took 
place  at  the  clerical  dinner  when  Dr.  Topham 
was  proved  to  be  a  liar.  In  concluding  his  open 
letter,  the  Dean  announced  that  he  had  taken 
leave  of  Dr.  Topham  "once  for  all."  Thus 
apparently  sure  of  the  last  word,  the  lawyer 
poured  forth  the  phials  of  his  wrath  in  A  Re- 
ply to  the  Answer  to  a  Letter  lately  addressed  to 
the  Dean  of  York.  With  considerable  humor  "a 
late  notable  performance,"  supposed  to  be  the 
Dean's,  was  described  as  "the  child  and  off- 
spring of  many  parents."  Mr.  Sterne  and  some 
others,  it  was  intimated,  had  been  called  in  by 
the  Dean  for  "  correcting,  revising,  ornament- 
ing, and  embellishing"  his  well-known  faint 
and  nerveless  style. 

Some  parts  of  the  Dean's  pamphlet  were 
without  doubt  Sterne's ;  but  they  count  for  no- 
thing in  comparison  with  A  Political  Romance, 
all  his  own,  which  he  sent  to  the  printer  late  in 
January,  1759.  Dr.  Topham  had  written  in  an- 
ger; the  Dean  replied  soberly;  Sterne  turned 
the  whole  controversy  into  ridicule.  "Above 
five  hundred  copies  "  of  Sterne's  pamphlet,  it 
was  said,  "were  struck  off";  and  "what  all  the 
serious  arguments  in  the  world  could  not  effect, 
this  brought  about."  At  once  Sterne  had  at  his 
feet  both  friends  and  enemies,  begging  that 


[  *  ] 

the  Romance  be  suppressed.  Dr.  Topham  sent 
word  that  he  was  ready,  on  this  condition,  to 
"quit  his  pretensions."  Certain  members  of  the 
York  Chapter  told  Sterne  that  this  humorous 
recital  of  their  disputes  would  never  do.  The 
Archbishop  and  the  Dean  were,  to  say  truth, 
each  handsomely  complimented  by  the  way; 
but  the  laugh  was,  after  all,  on  them  as  well 
as  on  Dr.  Topham ;  the  publication,  from  any 
point  of  view,  was,  they  thought,  offensive  to 
the  dignity  of  the  Church.  Sterne  heeded  the 
advice  of  his  brethren.  With  his  assent,  an 
official  of  the  Cathedral  bought  up  the  copies 
remaining  in  the  book-stalls  and  burned  them 
with  those  still  at  the  printer's.  That  was  the 
current  story  thirty  years  after.  But  several 
copies  must  have  been  sold  beyond  recovery; 
and  Sterne  himself  managed  in  some  way  to 
keep  from  the  flames  "three  or  four"  other 
copies,  which  he  guarded  for  the  delight  of  his 
friends.  It  is  perhaps  one  of  these  copies  that 
is  reprinted  here. 

Sterne  cast  his  amusing  narrative  in  the  form 
of  an  allegory,  having  in  mind  Swift's  Voyage  to 
Lilliput.  That  seeming  great  things  may  appear 
as  small  as  they  really  are,  the  diocese  of  York 
is  cut  down  to  a  country  parish,  and  Arch- 
bishop Gilbert  is  thereby  reduced  to  the  rank 
of  a  village  parson.  The  late  parson  is  Arch- 
bishop Hutton.  The  Dean,  Dr.  John  Foun- 


[xi] 


tayne,  shorn  of  his  surname,  becomes  merely 
John  the  parish  clerk;  and  the  members  of  the 
Chapter  figure  as  the  church- wardens.  Inci- 
dentally Mark  Braithwaite  appears  as  Mark 
Slender,  and  William  Stables  as  William  Doe. 
Dr.  Topham,  renamed  Trim,  because  he  re- 
ceives so  thorough  a  trimming  at  the  last,  is 
degraded  to  sexton  and  dog-whipper  of  the 
parish;  and  Sterne  himself  is  slightly  disguised 
under  the  name  of  Lorry  Slim. 

As  of  the  characters,  so  of  the  incidents, 
which  cover  the  bickerings  of  ten  years,  from 
1748  to  1758.  In  the  dispute  over  the  height 
of  John's  desk,  everybody  would  see  a  comical 
version  of  the  quarrel  that  Dr.  Topham  stirred 
up  between  Archbishop  Hutton  and  Dean 
Fountayne  over  the  key  to  the  Cathedral  pul- 
pit. When  Trim,  clad  in  an  old  coat,  hat,  and 
wig,  emerges  from  the  vicarage  and  struts 
across  the  churchyard,  bawling  out  to  John, 
44  See  here,  my  Lad !  how  fine  I  am !  "  —  that 
is  Sterne 's  way  of  saying  that  Dr.  Topham  has 
obtained  from  the  Archbishop  the  patent  of  the 
Prerogative  Courts  in  defiance  of  the  Dean's 
protest.  The  pair  of  black  plush  breeches  which 
Trim  begs  John  to  let  him  have  for  God's  sake, 
is  the  Commissaryship  of  Pickering  and  Pock- 
lington  that  the  Dean  refused  him  and  be- 
stowed upon  Sterne.  Similarly,  the  green  pul- 
pit-cloth and  old  velvet  cushion,  which  Trim 


[xii] 

eyed  with  envy,  stand  for  the  Commissaryship 
of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  that  went  to  William 
Stables.  The  numerous  semi-legal  offices  that 
Dr.  Topham  already  held  are  symbolized,  for 
example,  in  the  "  pindar's  place,"  worth  forty 
shillings  a  year,  in  the  six  shillings  and  eight 
pence  that  he  receives  for  oiling  and  winding 
up  the  clock,  in  the  six  pounds  a  year  paid  him 
for  catching  the  moles  of  the  parish,  and  in  the 
thirteen  shillings  and  four  pence  given  to  his 
wife  for  washing  and  darning  the  church  linen. 
The  old  garments  and  worn  pulpit  decora- 
tions being  divided  up  among  the  contestants, 
the  parish  fell  back  into  its  usual  monotonous 
drone,  and  would  have  droned  on  forever  had 
not  the  old  parson  left  his  flock  for  a  better  liv- 
ing and  his  place  been  supplied  by  a  new  in- 
cumbent. Then  was  struck  up  a  lively  tune. 
Trim  at  once  hastens  to  the  rectory  to  sell 
himself  into  servitude.  He  blacks  the  parson's 
shoes,  greases  his  boots,  runs  to  the  town  for 
eggs,  catches  his  horse  and  rubs  him  down;  and 
on  one  occasion,  when  the  parson  cuts  his  finger 
in  paring  an  apple,  goes  half  a  mile  to  inquire 
of  an  old  woman  what  is  good  to  staunch  blood, 
and  returns  with  a  cobweb  in  his  breeches' 
pocket.  All  these  incidents  are  a  burlesque  of 
Dr.  Topham's  endless  visits  to  Bishopthorpe 
immediately  after  the  new  Archbishop  had  set- 
tled at  the  palace. 


[  xiii  ] 


As  a  reward  for  running  on  the  parson's  er- 
rands, Trim  merely  requested  that  he  might 
have  an  old  watch-coat  which  had  long  hung 
up  in  the  church,  apparently  of  no  use  to  any- 
body. He  wished  to  take  it  home  and  have  it 
made  over  into  an  under-petticoat  for  his  wife 
and  a  jerkin  for  himself  before  winter  should 
come  on.  The  parson  told  him  he  was  welcome 
to  it  with  all  his  heart  and  soul,  provided  it  were 
in  the  power  of  his  Reverence  to  make  the  gift. 
As  to  that,  it  would  be  necessary  to  consult 
the  parish  registry.  Some  days  later,  just  as  the 
parson  had  discovered  that  the  watch-coat  was 
an  ancient  possession  of  great  value  and  dig- 
nity, Trim  popped  in  with  it  already  ripped 
into  two  parts  and  cut  out  for  the  petticoat  and 
jerkin.  Enraged  at  Trim's  impudence,  the  par- 
son commanded  him  to  lay  down  the  bundle 
and  to  wait  upon  him  the  next  morning  in  com- 
pany with  J  ohn  the  parish  clerk,  the  church- 
wardens, and  one  of  the  sidesmen.  The  next 
morning  at  eleven,  passions  ran  high  at  the 
rectory.  Trim  pleaded  the  parson's  promise, 
and,  failing  there,  enumerated  his  humble  ser- 
vices as  the  parson's  man.  But  all  in  vain.  The 
"  pimping,  pettyfogging,  ambidextrous  fel- 
low . . .  was  kick'd  out  of  doors ;  and  told,  at 
his  peril,  never  to  come  there  again." 

The  allegory  here  is  clear  enough.  By  the 
watch-coat  Sterne  intends  theCommissaryship 


[xiv] 

of  the  Exchequer  and  Prerogative  Courts;  its 
being  ripped  up  for  a  petticoat  and  a  jerkin 
means  that  Dr.  Topham  made  out  a  new  patent 
for  the  office,  in  which  he  inserted  the  name  of 
his  own  son  as  his  successor,  and  then  brought 
it  to  Archbishop  Gilbert  for  his  approval  and 
signature.  The  hot  scene  at  the  parsonage  the 
next  morning  is  the  conference  held  at  Bishop- 
thorpe  on  November  7,  1758.  It  is  probable 
that  Sterne,  a  most  active  member  of  the  York 
Chapter,  was  present  on  that  occasion,  and  so 
witnessed  Dr.  Topham's  utter  rout  and  angry 
departure. 

The  Key  which  Sterne  appended  to  the  Ro- 
mance belongs  to  a  kind  of  humor  common  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  a  late  survival  of  which 
may  be  seen  in  the  Pickwick  Club.  Specifi- 
cally, it  was  developed  from  Swift's  "  Grand 
Committee"  that  sat  upon  the  meaning  of 
"A  Tale  of  a  Tub."  Sterne's  "  Political  Club," 
however,  is  much  more  than  an  imitation  of 
Swift.  For  years  Sterne  spent  many  evenings, 
when  in  York,  at  a  convivial  club  that  met  at 
Sunton's  Coffee-House  in  Coney  Street.  Here 
were  discussed  the  questions  of  the  day,  na- 
tional and  local.  It  was  also  a  gossip-shop  for 
rumor,  scandal,  and  salacious  stories  and  jests. 
The  "  Political  Club,"  which  devoted  an  en- 
tire session  to  the  Romance,  was,  I  take  it,  a  bur- 
lesque of  the  transactions  of  Sterne's  own  club. 


[XV] 

Under  the  disguise  of  a  surgeon,  lawyer,  apoth- 
ecary, undertaker,  and  the  president  who  loved 
an  hypothesis  better  than  his  life,  he  probably 
drew  little  portraits  of  the  members  —  their 
mannerisms  and  favorite  gestures,  and  their 
vehemence  in  the  expression  of  their  opinions. 
What  kind  of  men  they  were  further  than  this 
or  what  names  they  bore  —  we  may  never 
know,  except,  to  be  sure,  that  the  Vicar  of  Sut- 
ton  is  among  them.  He  is  the  parson  of  the 
parish,  smart  in  repartee  and  ready  to  defend  by 
a  counter-jest  an  attack  upon  the  cloth,  just  as 
was  related  in  many  an  anecdote  of  Sterne 
once  current  and  as  may  be  seen  in  the  char- 
acter he  drew  of  himself  in  Parson  Yorick. 

To  these  obscure  associates  Sterne  had  been 
long  known  for  his  overpowering  sense  of 
humor.  "He  loved  a  jest  in  his  heart."  He 
had  contributed  political  paragraphs  to  York 
and  London  newspapers,  and  had  read  to  his 
friends  his  quaint  verses  occasioned  by  hear- 
ing the  great  bell  of  the  Cathedral  toll  for  the 
dead;  but  it  was  really  A  Political  Romance  that 
first  revealed  to  the  author  and  his  club  that 
he  coul d  wri  te  "  so  as  to  make  his  reader  laugh." 
Having  once  discovered  his  talent,  Sterne  im- 
mediately sat  down  to  Tristram  Shandy,  and 
within  a  year  entered  upon  his  fame. 

WILBUR  L.  CROSS. 
August  20,  1914. 


A 

Political  Romance, 

Addrefled 

To ,  Efa 

O  F 

YORK. 

To  which  is  fubjoined  a 

KEY. 


Ridiculum  acri 
Fortius  et  meliusmagnasplerumquefecat  Res. 


T         O         R         K: 

Printed  in  the  Year  MDCCLIX. 

[  Price  ONE  SHILLING.] 


POLITICAL  ROMANCE, 


SIR, 

my  laft,  for  want  of  fome- 
thing  better  to  write  about, 
I  told  you  \yhat  a;  WorJd  of 
Fending  arid  Proving  we  have 
had  of  late,  in  this  little  Vil- 
lage of  ours,  about  an  old-caft-Pair-of- 
black-PluJh-Breeches,  which  yohn,  our  Pa- 
rifh-Clerk,  about  ten  Years  ago,  it  feems, 
had  made  a  Promife  of  to  one  Trim,  who 

is  our  Sexton  and  Dog-Whipper. To 

this  you  write  me  Word,  that  you  have 
had  more  than  either  one  or  two  Occafions 
to  know  a  good  deal  of  the  fhifty  Beha- 
viour of  this  faid  Mafter  Trim,  —  and  that 
A  you 


you  are  aftonifhed,  nor  can  you  for  your 
Soul  conceive,  how  fo  worthlefs  a  Fellow, 
and  fo  worthlefs  a  Thing  into  the  Bargain, 
could  become  the  Occafion  of  fuch  a 
Racket  as  I  have  reprefented. 

Now,  though  you  do  not  fay  expreffly, 
you  could  wifh  to  hear  any  more  about  it, 
yet  I  fee  plain  enough  that  I  have  raifed 
your  Curiofity;  and  therefore,  from  the 
fame  Motive,  that  I  flightly  mentioned  it 
at  all  in  my  laft  Letter,  I  will,  in  this,  give 
you  a  full  and  very  circumftantial  Account 
of  the  whole  Affair. 

But,  before  !  begin,  I  muft  firft  fet  you 
right  in  one  very  material  Point,  in  which 
I  have  mifiled  yt-u.,  as  to  the  true  Caufe 
of  all  this  Uproar  amongft  us  ; —  which 
does  not  take  its  Rife,  as  I  then  told  you, 
from  the  Affair  of  the  Breeches; —  but,  on 
the  contrary,  the  whole  Affair  of  the 
Breeches  has  taken  its  Rife  from  it : — 
To  underftand  which,  you  muft  know, 
that  the  firft  Beginning  of  the  Squabble 
was  not  between  John  the  Parifh-Clerk 
and  Trim  the  Sexton,  but  betwixt  the  Par- 
fon  of  the  Parifh  and  the  faid  Mafter  Trim, 

about 


[    3    ] 

about  an  old  Watch-Coat,  which  had  many 
Years  hung  up  in  the  Church,  which  Trim 
had  fet  his  Heart  upon ;  and  nothing  would 
ferve  Trim  but  he  muft  take  it  home,  in 
order  to  have  it  converted  into  a  'warm 
Under-Petticoat  for  his  Wife,  and  a  Jerkin 
for  himfelf,  againft  Winter ;  which,  in  a 
plaintive  Tone,  he  moft  humbly  begg'd  his 
Reverence  would  confent  to. 

I  need  not  tell  you,  Sir,  who  have  fo 
often  felt  it,  that  a  Principle  of  ftrong 
Compaffion  tranfports  a  generous  Mind 
fometimes  beyond  what  is  ftridtly  right, — 
the  Parfon  was  within  an  Ace  of  being  an 
honourable  Example  of  this  very  Crime; — 
for  no  fooner  did  the  diftinct  Words — 
Petticoat — poor  Wife  —  warm  —  Winter 

flrike  upon  his  Ear, but  his  Heart 

warmed,  and,  before  Trim  had  well  got 
to  the  End  of  his  Petition,  (being  a  Gentle- 
man of  a  frank  and  open  Temper  J  he  told 
him  he  was  welcome  to  it,  with  all  his 
Heart  and  Soul.  But,  Trim,  fays  he,  as  you 
fee  I  am  but  juftgot  down  to  my  Living,  and 
am  an  utter  Stranger  to  all  Parifh-Matters, 
know  nothing  about  this  old  Watch-Coat 
you  beg  of  me,  having  never  feen  it  in  my 
A  2  Life, 


Life,  and  therefore  cannot  be  a  Judge 
whether  'tis  fit  for  fuch  a  Purpofe ;  or,  if 
it  is,  in  Truth,  know  not  whether  'tis 
mine  to  beftow  upon  you  or  not ; —  you 
muft  have  a  Week  or  ten  Days  Patience, 
till  I  can  make  fome  Inquiries  about  it ; — 
and,  if  I  find  it  is  in  my  Power,  I  tell  you 
again,  Man,  your  Wife  is  heartily  welcome 
to  an  Under-Petticoat  out  of  it,  and  you 
to  a  Jerkin,  was  the  Thing  as  good  again 
as  you  reprefent  it. 

It  is  neceffary  to  inform  you,  Sir,  in 
this  Place,  That  the  Parfon  was  earneftly 
bent  to  ferve  Trim  in  this  Affair,  not  only 
from  the  Motive  of  Generofity,  which  I 
have  juftly  afcribed  to  him,  but  likewife 
from  another  Motive ;  and  that  was  by 
way  of  making  fome  Sort  of  Recompence 
for  a  Multitude  of  fmall  Services  which 
Trim  had  occafionally  done,  and  indeed 
was  continually  doing,  (as  he  was  much 
about  the  Houfe)  when  his  own  Man  was 
out  of  the  way.  For  all  thefe  Reafons  to- 
gether, I  fay,  the  Parfon  of  the  Parifh  in- 
tended to  ferve  Trim  in  this  Matter  to  the 
utmoft  of  his  Power ;  All  that  was  want- 
ing was  previoufly  to  inquire,  if  any  one 

had 


[   5    ] 

had  a  Claim  to  it ; —  or  whether,  as  it  had, 
Time  immemorial,  hung  up  in  the 
Church,  the  taking  it  down  might  not 
raife  a  Clamour  in  the  Parifh.  Thefe  In- 
quiries were  the  very  Thing  that  Trim 
dreaded  in  his  Heart. —  He  knew  very 
well  that  if  the  Parfon  fliould  but  fay  one 
Word  to  the  Church- War  dens  about  it, 
there  would  be  an  End  of  the  whole  Af- 
fair. For  this,  and  fome  other  Reafonsnot 
neceflary  to  be  told  you,  at  prefent,  Trim 
was  for  allowing  no  Time  in  this  Mat- 
ter ; —  but,  on  the  contrary,  doubled  his 
Diligence  and  Importunity  at  the  Vicarage- 
Houfe ; —  plagued  the  whole  Family  to 
Death;  prefled  his  fuit  Morning,  Noon, 
and  Night ;  and,  to  fhorten  my  Story, 
teazed  the  poor  Gentleman,  who  was  but 
in  an  ill  State  of  Health,  almoft  out  of  his 
Life  about  it. 

You  will  not  wonder,  when  I  tell  you, 
that  all  this  Hurry  and  Precipitation,  on 
the  Side  of  Mafter  Trim,  produced  its  na- 
tural Effect  on  the  Side  of  the  Parfon,  and 
that  was,  a  Sufpicion  that  all  was  not  right 
at  the  Bottom. 

He 


He  was  one  Evening  fitting  alone  in  his 
Study,  weighing  and  turning  this  Doubt 
every  Way  in  his  Mind ;  and,  after  an 
Hour  and  a  half's  ferious  Deliberation  up- 
on the  Affair,  and  running  over  Trim's  Be- 
haviour throughout, —  he  was  juft  faying 
to  himfelf,  //  mujt  be  fo ;  when  a  fudden 
Rap  at  the  Door  put  an  End  to  his  Solilo- 
quy,—  and,  in  a  few  Minutes,  to  his 
Doubts  too ;  for  a  Labourer  in  the  Town, 
who  deem'd  himfelf  paft  his  fifty-fecond 
Year,  had  been  returned  by  the  Conftable 
in  the  Militia-Lift,  —  and  he  had  come, 
with  a  Groat  in  his  Hand,  to  fearch  the 
Parifh  Regifter  for  his  Age.  —  The  Parfon 
bid  the  poor  Fellow  put  the  Groat  into  his 
Pocket,  and  go  into  the  Kitchen :  —  Then 
(hutting  the  Study  Door,  and  taking  down 
the  Parifh  Regifter,  —  Who  knows ;  fays  he, 
but  Imayfindfomething  here  about  this f elf  - 
fame  Watch-Coat?  —  He  had  fcarce  un- 
clafped  the  Book,  in  faying  this,  when  he 
popp'd  upon  the  very  Thing  he  wanted, 
fairly  wrote  on  the  firft  Page,  pafted  to  the 
Infide  of  one  of  the  Covers,  whereon  was 
a  Memorandum  about  the  very  Thing  in 
Queftion,  in  thefe  exprefs  Words : 


great  ^atcf^Coat  toa£  purcfjafefc 
anii  gifoen  abobc  ttoo  IiunbrcD  i?car£  ago, 
6p  tlje  &or&  of  tlje  S^anor,  to  t&i 
Cfjurcf),  to  tfte  fole  £Jfe  anti  2&efjoof  of 
poor  £ejcton£  thereof,  anti  tfteir  ^ucceffor^, 
for  eber,  to  fie  toom  6p  tftem  refpectibelp 
hi  tointerlp  cofti  l^igftt^,  in  ringing  Com- 
plines, Pafling-Bells,  &c.  tofticft  tftefaiti  ilorti 
of  t^e  a^anor  Ijab  fcone,  in  ^ietp,  to  feeep 
tfje  poor  ^retcfte^  toarm,  anti  for  t£e  oBooti 
of  I)i^  oton  ^oul,  for  tD^itf)  tftep  toere  bi^ 
recteti  to  prap,  &c.  &c.  &c.  &c.  Juft  Hea- 
ven !  faid  the  Parfon  to  himfelf,  looking 
upwards,  What  an  Efcape  have  I  had! 
Give  this  for  an  Under-Petticoat  to  Trim'j 
Wife  !  I  would  not  have  confented  to  fuch 
a  Defecration  to  be  Primate  of  all  Eng- 
land; nay,  I  would  not  have  dijlurb'd  a 
Jingle  Button  of  it  for  half  my  Tythes  ! 

Scarce  were  the  Words  out  of  his  Mouth, 
when  in  pops  Trim  with  the  whole  Sub- 
je&  of  the  Exclamation  under  both  his 
Arms. —  I  fay,  under  both  his  Arms ; —  for 
he  had  actually  got  it  ripp'd  and  cut  out 
ready,  his  own  Jerkin  under  one  Arm,  and 
the  Petticoat  under  the  other,  in  order  to 
be  carried  to  the  Taylor  to  be  made  up,  — 

and 


.. 

and  had  juft  ftepp'd  in,  in  high  Spirits,  to 
fhew  the  Parfon  how  cleverly  it  had  held 
out. 

There  are  many  good  Similies  now  fub- 
fifting  in  the  World,  but  which  I  have  nei- 
ther Time  to  recoiled:  or  look  for,  which 
would  give  you  a  ftrong  Conception  of 
the  Aftonifhment  and  honeft  Indignation 
which  this  unexpected  Stroke  of  Trim's 
Impudence  impreff'd  upon  the  Parfon's 
Looks. —  Let  it  fuffice  to  fay,  That  it  ex- 
ceeded all  fair  Defcription, —  as  well  as  all 
Power  of  proper  Refentment, —  except 
this,  that  Trim  was  ordered,  in  a  ftern 
Voice,  to  lay  the  Bundles  down  upon  the 
Table, —  to  go  about  his  Buiinefs,  and  wait 
upon  him,  at  his  Peril,  the  next  Morning 
at  Eleven  precifely:  Againft  this  Hour 
like  a  wife  Man,  the  Parfon  had  fent  to 
defire  John  the  Parifh- Clerk,  who  bore 
an  exceeding  good  Character  as  a  Man  of 
Truth,  and  who  having,  moreover,  a 
pretty  Freehold  of  about  eighteen  Pounds  a 
Year  in  the  Townfhip,  was  a  leading  Man 
in  it ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  was  fuch  a 
one  of  whom  it  might  be  faid, —  That  he 
rather  did  Honour  to  his  Office, —  than 

that 


[   9    ] 

that  his  Office  did  Honour  to  him. —  Him 
he  fends  for,  with  the  Church- Wardens, 
and  one  of  the  Sides-Men,  a  grave,  know- 
ing, old  Man,  to  be  prefent : —  For  as  Trim 
had  with-held  the  whole  Truth  from  the 
Parfon,  touching  the  Watch-Coat,  he 
thought  it  probable  he  would  as  certainly 
do  the  fame  Thing  to  others  ;  though  this, 
I  faid,  was  wife,  the  Trouble  of  the  Precau- 
tion might  have  been  fpared, —  becaufe  the 
Parfon's  Character  was  unblemifh'd, —  and 
he  had  ever  been  held  by  the  World  in  the 
Eftimation  of  a  Man  of  Honour  and  Inte- 
grity.—  Trim's  Character,  on  the  contrary, 
was  as  well  known,  if  not  in  the  World, 
yet,  at  leaft,  in  all  the  Parim,  to  be  that  of 
a  little,  dirty,  pimping,  pettifogging,  ambi- 
dextrous Fellow, — who  neither  cared  what 
he  did  or  faid  of  any,  provided  he  could  get  a 
Penny  by  it . —  This  might,  I  fay,  have  made 
any  Precaution  needlefs; —  but  you  muft 
know,  as  the  Parfon  had  in  a  Manner  but 
juft  got  down  to  his  Living,  he  dreaded  the 
Confequences  of  the  leaft  ill  Impreffion  on 
his  firft  Entrance  amongft  his  Parifhioners, 
which  would  have  difabled  him  from  do- 
ing them  the  Good  he  wifhed  ; —  so  that, 
out  of  Regard  to  his  Flock,  more  than  the 
B  necef- 


neceflary  Care  due  to  himfelf,  —  he  was  re- 
folv'd  not  to  lie  at  the  Mercy  of  what  Re- 
fen  tment  might  vent,  or  Malice  lend  an  Ear 
to. —  Accordingly  the  whole  Matter  was 
rehearfed  from  firft  to  laft  by  the  Parfon, 
in  the  Manner  I've  told  you,  in  the  Hear- 
ing of  John  the  Par  ifh- Clerk,  and  in  the 
Prefence  of  Trim. 

Trim  had  little  to  fay  for  himfelf,  ex- 
cept "  That  the  Parfon  had  abfolutely  pro- 
mifed  to  befriend  him  and  his  Wife  in  the 
Affair,  to  the  utmoft  of  his  Power :  That 
the  Watch-Coat  was  certainly  in  his 
Power,  and  that  he  might  ftill  give  it  him 
ifhepleafed." 

To  this,  the  Parfon's  Reply  was  fhort, 
but  ftrong,  "That  nothing  was  in  his 
Power  to  do,  but  what  he  could  do  honeft- 
ly ; — That  in  giving  the  Coat  to  him  and 
his  Wife,  he  fhould  do  a  manifeft  Wrong  to 
the  next  Sexton ;  the  great  Watch-Coat 
being  the  moft  comfortable  Part  of  the 
Place : — That  he  fhould,  moreover,  injure 
the  Right  of  his  own  SuccefTor,  who  would 
be  juft  fo  much  a  worfe  Patron,  as  the 
Worth  of  the  Coat  amounted  to ; — and  in 

a 


a  Word,  he  declared  that  his  whole  Intent 
in  promifing  that  Coat,  was  Charity  to 
Trim ;  but  Wrong  to  no  Man ;  that  was  a 
Referve,  he  faid,  made  in  all  Cafes  of  this 
Kind: — and  he  declared  folemnly,  in  Verbo 
Sacerdotis,  That  this  was  his  Meaning,  and 
was  fo  underftood  by  Trim  himfelf." 

With  the  Weight  of  this  Truth,  and  the 
great  good  Senfe  and  ftrong  Reafon  which 
accompanied  all  the  Parfon  faid  upon  the 
Subject, —  poor  Trim  was  driven  to  his  laft 
Shift, —  and  begg'd  he  might  be  fuffered 
to  plead  his  Right  and  Title  to  the  Watch- 
Coat,  if  not  by  Promife,  at  leaft  by  Servi- 
ces.—  It  was  well  known  how  much  he 
was  entitled  to  it  upon  thefe  Scores :  That 
he  had  black' d  the  Parfon's  Shoes  without 
Count,  and  greafed  his  Boots  above  fifty 
Times : — That  he  had  run  for  Eggs  into  the 
Town  upon  all  Occafions ; —  whetted  the 
Knives  at  all  Hours  ; —  catched  his  Horfe 
and  rubbed  him  down: —  That  for  his 
Wife  me  had  been  ready  upon  all  Occafions 
to  charr  for  them ; —  and  neither  he  nor  me, 
to  the  beft  of  his  Remembrance,  ever  took 
a  Farthing,  or  any  thing  beyond  a  Mug  of 
Ale. —  To  this  Account  of  his  Services  he 
B  2  begg'd 


begg'd  Leave  to  add  thofe  of  his  Wifhes, 
which,  he  faid,  had  been  equally  great. — 
He  affirmed,  and  was  ready,  he  faid,  to 
make  it  appear,  by  Numbers  of  WitnefTes, 
"He  had  drank  his  Reverence's  Health  a 
thoufand  Times,  (by  the  bye,  he  did  not 
add  out  of  the  Parfon's  own  Ale) :  That 
he  not  only  drank  his  Health,  but  wifh'd 
it;  and  never  came  to  the  Houfe,  but  afk'd 
his  Man  kindly  how  he  did ;  that  in  par- 
ticular, about  half  a  Year  ago,  when  his 
Reverence  cut  his  Fiifger  in  paring  an  Ap- 
ple, he  went  half  a  Mile  to  afk  a  cunning 
Woman,  what  was  good  to  ftanch  Blood, 
and  actually  returned  with  a  Cobweb  in  his 
Breeches  Pocket: —  Nay,  fays  Trim,  it 
was  not  a  Fortnight  ago,  when  your  Reve- 
rence took  that  violent  Purge,  that  I  went 
to  the  far  End  of  the  whole  Town  to  bor- 
row you  a  Clofe-ftool, —  and  came  back, 
as  my  Neighbours,  who  flouted  me,  will 
all  bear  witnefs,  with  the  Pan  upon  my 
Head,  and  never  thought  it  too  much." 

Trim  concluded  his  pathetick  Remon- 
ftrance  with  faying,   "  He  hoped  his  Re- 
verence's Heart  would  not  fuffer  him  to 
requite  ib  many  faithful  Services  by  fb  un- 
kind 


t*«] 


kind  a  Return  : — That  if  it  was  fo,  as  he 
was  the  firft,  fo  he  hoped  he  ihould  be  the 
laft,  Example  of  a  Man  of  his  Condition 
fo  treated." This  Plan  of  Trim's  De- 
fence, which  Trim  had  put  himfelf  upon, 
—  could  admit  of  no  other  Reply  but  a  ge- 
neral Smile. 

Upon  the  whole,  let  me  inform  you, 
That  all  that  could  be  faid,  pro  and  con,  on 
both  Sides,  being  fairly  heard,  it  was  plain, 
That  Trim,  in  every  Part  of  this  Affair, 

had  behaved  very  ill ; and  one  Thing, 

which  was  never  expelled  to  be  known  of 
him,  happening  in  the  Courfe  of  this  De- 
bate to  come  out  againft  him ; —  namely, 
That  he  had  gone  and  told  the  Parfon,  be- 
fore he  had  ever  fet  Foot  in  his  Parifh, 
That  John  his  Parifh-Clerk,  his  Church- 
Wardens,  and  fome  of  the  Heads  of  the 
Parifh,  were  a  Parcel  of  Scoundrels. —  Up 
on  the  Upfhot,  Trim  was  kick'd  out  of 
Doors ;  and  told,  at  his  Peril,  never  to 
come  there  again. 

At  firft  Trim  huff'd  and  bounced  most 
terribly ; —  fwore  he  would  get  a  War- 
rant ; —  then  nothing  would  ferve  him  but 

he 


he  would  call  a  Bye-Law,  and  tell  the 
whole  Parifh  how  the  Parfon  had  mifufed 
him; — but  cooling  of  that,  as  fearing  the 
Parfon  might  poffibly  bind  him  over  to  his 
good  Behaviour,  and,  for  aught  he  knew, 
might  fend  him  to  the  Houfe  of  Correc- 
tion,—  he  let  the  Parfon  alone ;  and  to  re- 
venge himfelf,  falls  foul  upon  his  Clerk, 
who  had  no  more  to  do  in  the  Quarrel  than 
you  or  I ; —  rips  up  the  Promife  of  the  old- 
caft— Pair— of— black— Plufh— Breeches,  and 
raifes  an  Uproar  in  the  Town  about  it,  not- 
withftanding  it  had  flept  ten  Years. —  But 
all  this  you  muft  know,  is  look'd  upon  in 
no  other  Light,  but  as  an  artful  ftroke  of 
Generalfliip  in  Trim,  to  raife  a  Duft,  and 
cover  himfelf  under  the  difgraceful  Cha- 
ftifement  he  had  undergone. 

If  your  curiolity  is  not  yet  fatiffied, —  I 
will  now  proceed  to  relate  the  Battle  of 
the  Breeches,  in  the  fame  exa6t  Manner 
I  have  done  that  of  the  Watch-Coat. 

Be  it  known  then,  that,  about  ten 
Years  ago,  when  "John  was  appointed  Pa- 
rim-Clerk  of  this  Church,  this  faid  Mafter 
Trim  took  no  fmall  Pains  to  get  into  John's 

good 


['5] 

good  Graces;  in  order,  as  it  afterwards 
appeared,  to  coax  a  Promife  out  of  him  of 
a  Pair  of  Breeches,  which  "John  had  then 
by  him,  of  black  Plufh,  not  much  the 
worfe  for  wearing ; —  Trim  only  begging 
for  God's  fake  to  have  them  beftowed  up- 
on him  when  John  should  think  fit  to  caft 
them. 

Trim  was  one  of  thofe  kind  of  Men  who 
loved  a  Bit  of  Finery  in  his  Heart,  and 
would  rather  have  a  tatter'd  Rag  of  a  Bet- 
ter Body's,  than  the  beft  plain  whole  Thing 
his  Wife  could  fpin  him. 

John,  who  was  naturally  unfufpicious, 
made  no  more  Difficulty  of  promifing  the 
Breeches,  than  the  Parfon  had  done  in  pro- 
mifing the  Great  Coat ;  and,  indeed,  with 

fomething  lefs  Referve, becaufe  the 

Breeches  were  Johns  own,  and  he  could 
give  them,  without  Wrong,  to  whom  he 
thought  fit. 

It  happened,  I  was  going  to  fay  un- 
luckily, but  I  fhould  rather  fay,  moft 
luckily,  for  Trim,  for  he  was  the  only 
Gainer  by  it, —  that  a  Quarrel,  about  fbme 

fix 


fix  or  eight  Weeks  after  this,  broke  out 
between  the  late  Parfon  of  the  Parifh 
and  John  the  Clerk.  Somebody  (and 
it  was  thought  to  be  Nobody  but  Trim] 
had  put  it  into  the  Parfon's  Head,  "  That 
John's  Defk  in  the  Church  was,  at  the 
leaft,  four  Inches  higher  than  it  fhould 

be : That  the  Thing  gave  Offenfe, 

and  was  indecorous,  inafmuch  as  it  ap- 
proach'd  too  near  upon  a  Level  with  the 
Parfon's  Defk  itfelf.  This  Hardfhip  the 
Parfon  complained  of  loudly,  —  and  told 
John  one  Day  after  Prayers, —  "  He  could 
bear  it  no  longer : —  And  would  have  it  al- 
ter'd  and  brought  down  as  it  fhould  be." 
John  made  no  other  Reply,  but,  "  That 
the  Defk  was  not  of  his  raifing  : —  That 
'twas  not  one  Hair  Breadth  higher  than  he 
found  it ; —  and  that  as  he  found  it,  fo  would 
he  leave  it : —  In  fhort,  he  would  neither 
make  an  Encroachment,  nor  would  he 
fuffer  one." 

The  late  Parfon  might  have  his  Virtues, 
but  the  leading  Part  of  his  Character  was 
not  Humility ;  fo  that  Johns  Stiffnefs  in 
this  Point  was  not  likely  to  reconcile  Mat- 
ters.—  This  was  Trim's  Harveft. 

After 


['7] 

After  a  friendly  Hint  to  'John  to  ftand 
his  Ground,  —  away  hies  Trim  to  make  his 
Market  at  the  Vicarage : —  What  paiPd 
there,  I  will  not  fay,  intending  not  to  be 
uncharitable;  fo  fhall  content  myfelf  with 
only  gueffing  at  it,  from  the  fudden  change 
that  appeared  in  Trim's  Drefs  for  the  bet- 
ter ; —  for  he  had  left  his  old  ragged  Coat, 
Hat  and  Wig,  in  the  Stable,  and  was  come 
forth  ftrutting  acrofs  the  Church-yard, 
y'clad  in  a  good  creditable  caft  Coat,  large 
Hat  and  Wig,  which  the  Parfon  had  just 
given  him. —  Ho !  Ho !  Hollo  !  "John  \ 
cries  Trim,  in  an  infblent  Bravo,  as  loud  as 
ever  he  could  bawl —  See  here,  my  Lad  ! 
how  fine  I  am. —  The  more  Shame  for 
you,  anfwered  yobn,  ferioufly.  —  Do  you 
think,  Trim,  fays  he,  fuch  Finery,  gain'd 
by  fuch  Services,  becomes  you,  or  can 
wear  well  ? —  Fye  upon  it,  Trim ; —  I  could 
not  have  expected  this  from  you,  confi- 
dering  what  Friendfhip  you  pretended, 
and  how  kind  I  have  ever  been  to  you : 
—  how  many  Shillings  and  Sixpences  I 
have  generoufly  lent  you  in  your  Diftref- 
fes  ?  —  Nay,  it  was  but  t'other  Day  that  I 
promifed  you  thefe  black  Pluih  Breeches  I 

have  on. Rot  your  Breeches,  quoth 

C  Trim 


Trim-,  for  Trim's  Brain  was  half  turn'd 
with  his  new  Finery :  —  Rot  your  Breeches, 
fays  he,  —  I  would  not  take  them  up,  were 
they  laid  at  my  Door  ; —  give  'em,  and  be 

d — d  to  you,  to  whom  you  like ; I 

would  have  you  to  know  I  can  have  a  bet- 
ter Pair  at  the  Parfon's  any  Day  in  the 
Week: — John  told  him  plainly,  as  his 
Word  had  once  pafFd  him,  he  had  a  Spi- 
rit above  taking  Advantage  of  his  Info- 
lence,  in  giving  them  away  to  another : — 
But,  to  tell  him  his  Mind  freely,  he 
thought  he  had  got  fo  many  Favours  of 
that  Kind,  and  was  fo  likely  to  get  many 
more  for  the  fame  Services,  of  the  Parfbn, 
that  he  had  better  give  up  the  Breeches, 
with  good  Nature,  to  fome  one  who  would 
be  more  thankful  for  them. 

Here  John  mentioned  Mark  Slender, 
(who,  it  feems,  the  Day  before,  had  afk'd 
John  for  'em)  not  knowing  they  were  un- 
der Promife  to  Trim. "  Come,  Trim, 

fays  he,  let  poor  Mark  have  'em, 

You   know  he  has  not    a    Pair   to  his 

A :  Befides,  you  fee  he  is  juft  of  my 

Size,  and  they  will  fit  him  to  a  T  ;  where- 
as, if  I  give  'em  to  you,  —  look  ye,  they 

are 


[-9] 

are  not  worth  much  ;  and,  befides,  you 
could  not  get  your  Backfide  into  them,  if 
you  had  them,  without  tearing  them  all 
to  Pieces." 

Every  Tittle  of  this  was  moft  undoubt- 
edly true  ;  for  Trim,  you  muft  know,  by 
foul  Feeding,  and  playing  the  good  Fel- 
low at  the  Parfon's,  was  grown  fomewhat 
grofs  about  the  lower  Parts,  if  not  higher: 
So  that,  as  all  John  faid  upon  the  Occa- 
fion  was  fact,  Trim  with  much  ado,  and 
after  a  hundred  Hum's  and  Hah's,  at  laft, 
out  of  mere  compaffion  to  Mark,  Jigns, 
feals  and  delivers  up  all  fttgljt, 

anfc  $retenfiong  to&atfoefcer,  in  anfc  to 


,  anti 

nctoer  more  to  call  tlje  faiti  Claim  in 
ftion. 


All  this  Renunciation  was  fet  forth  in 
an  ample  Manner,  to  be  in  pure  Pity  to 
Mark's  Nakednefs  ;  —  but  the  Secret  was, 
Trim  had  an  Eye  to,  and  firmly  expected 
in  his  own  Mind,  the  great  Green  Pulpit- 
Cloth  and  old  Velvet  Cufhion,  which 
were  that  very  Year  to  be  taken  down  ;  — 
C  2  which 


which,  by  the  Bye,  could  he  have  wheed- 
led John  a  fecond  Time  out  of  'em,  as  he 
hoped,  he  had  made  up  the  Lofs  of  his 
Breeches  Seven-fold. 

Now,  you  muft  know,  this  Pulpit- 
Cloth  and  Cufhion  were  not  in  Johns 
Gift,  but  in  the  Church- Wardens,  &c. — 
However,  as  I  faid  above,  that  John  was 
a  leading  Man  in  the  Parifh,  "Trim  knew 
he  could  help  him  to  them  if  he  would : — 

But  John  had  got  a  Surfeit  of  him  ; 

fo,  when  the  Pulpit-cloth,  &c  were  ta- 
ken down,  they  were  immediately  given 
(John  having  a  great  fay  in  it)  to  William 
Doe,  who  underftood  very  well  what  Ufe 
to  make  of  them. 

As  for  the  old  Breeches,  poor  Mark 
Slender  lived  to  wear  them  but  a  fhort 
Time,  and  they  got  into  the  Pofleffion  of 
Lorry  Slim,  an  unlucky  Wight,  by  whom 

they  are   ftill   worn ; in    Truth,    as 

you  will  guefs,  they  are  very  thin  by  this 
Time: — But  Lorry  has  a  light  Heart ;  and 
what  recommends  them  to  him,  is  this, 
that,  as  thin  as  they  are,  he  knows  that 
Trim,  let  him  fay  what  he  will  to  the  con- 
trary, ftill  envies  the  PoffeJ/or  of  them,  — 

and 


and,  with  all  his  Pride,  would  be  very  glad 
to  wear  them  after  him. 

Upon  this  Footing  have   thefe   Affairs 

flept  quietly  for  near  ten  Years, and 

would  have  flept  for  ever,  but  for  the  un- 
lucky Kicking-Bout ;  which,  as  I  faid, 
has  ripp'd  this  Squabble  up  afrem :  So 
that  it  was  no  longer  than  laft  Week, 
that  Trim  met  and  infulted  John  in  the 
public  Town- Way,  before  a  hundred 
People ; —  tax'd  him  with  the  Promife  of 
the  old-caft-Pair-of-black-Breeches,  not- 
withftanding  Trim's  fblemn  Renunciation; 
twitted  him  with  the  Pulpit-Cloth  and 
Velvet  Cufhion, —  as  good  as  told  him,  he 
was  ignorant  of  the  common  Duties  of  his 
Clerkfhip;  adding,  very  infolently,  That 
he  knew  not  fo  much  as  to  give  out  a 
common  Pfalm  in  Tune. 

John  contented  himfelf  with  giving  a 
plain  Anfwer  to  every  Article  that  Trim 
had  laid  to  his  Charge,  and  appealed  to  his 
Neighbours  who  remembered  the  whole 
Affair ; —  and  as  he  knew  there  was  never 
any  Thing  to  be  got  in  wreftling  with  a 

Chim- 


Chimney-S weeper, — he  was  going  to  take 
Leave  of  Trim  for  ever. —  But,  hold, — 
the  Mob  by  this  Time  had  got  round 
them,  and  their  High  Might ineffes  infifted 
upon  having  Trim  tried  upon  the  Spot.  — 
Trim  was  accordingly  tried ;  and,  after  a 
full  Hearing,  was  convicted  afecond  Time, 
and  handled  more  roughly  by  one  or  more 
of  them,  than  even  at  the  Parfon's. 

Trim,  fays  one,  are  you  not  afhamed  of 
yourfelf,  to  make  all  this  Rout  and  Di- 
fturbance  in  the  Town,  and  fet  Neigh- 
bours together  by  the  Ears,  about  an  old- 
worn  -  out  -  Pair  -of-  caft  -  Breeches,  not 
worth  Half  a  Crown  ? —  Is  there  a  caft- 
Coat,  or  a  Place  in  the  whole  Town,  that 
will  bring  you  in  a  Shilling,  but  what  you 
have  fnapp'd  up,  like  a  greedy  Hound  as 
you  are? 

In  the  firft  Place,  are  you  not  Sexton 
and  Dog-Whipper,  worth  Three  Pounds 
a  Year  ? —  Then  you  begg'd  the  Church- 
Wardens  to  let  your  Wife  have  the  Wafh- 
ing  and  Darning  of  the  Surplice  and 
Church-Linen,  which  brings  you  in  Thir- 
teen 


teen  Shillings  and  Four  Pence. — Then  you 
have  Six  Shillings  and  Eight  Pence  for 
oiling  and  winding  up  the  Clock,  both  paid 
you  at  Eafter. —  The  Finder's  Place,  which 
is  worth  Forty  Shillings  a  Year, — you  have 
got  that  t oo . — You  are  the  B  ailiff,  which  the 
late  Parfon  got  you,  which  brings  you  in 
Forty  Shillings  more. — Befidesall  this, you 
have  Six  Pounds  a  Year,  paid  you  Quarter- 
ly for  being  Mole-Catcher  to  the  Parifh. — 
Aye,  fays  the  lucklefs  Wight  above-men- 
tioned, (who  was  ftanding  clofe  to  him 
with  his  Plufh  Breeches  on)  "You  are  not 
only  Mole-Catcher,  Trim,  but  you  catch 
STRAY  CONIES  too  in  the  Dark\  and  you 
pretend  a  Licence  for  it,  which,  I  trow, 
will  be  look'd  into  at  the  next  Quarter  Ses- 
sions." I  maintain  it,  I  have  a  Licence, 
fays  Trim,  blufhing  as  red  as  Scarlet : — 
I  have  a  Licence, —  and  as  I  farm  a  War- 
ren in  the  next  Parifh,  I  will  catch  Conies 
every  Hour  of  the  Night. —  Tou  catch 
Conies!  cries  a  toothlefs  old  Woman,  who 
was  juft  paffing  by. 

This  fet  the  Mob  a  laughing,  and  fent 
every  Man  home  in  perfect  good  Humour, 

except 


['4] 

except  Trim,  who  waddled  very  flowly 
off  with  that  Kind  of  inflexible  Gravity 
only  to  be  equalled  by  one  Animal  in  the 
whole  Creation,  —  and  furpafled  by  none. 
I  am, 

SIR, 

Yours,  &c.  &c. 


N 


S. 


t'i] 

POSTSCRIPT. 

I  Have  broke  open  my  Letter  to  inform 
you,  that  I  miff'd  the  Opportunity  of 
fending  it  by  the  Meffenger,  who  I  ex- 
pelted  would  have  called  upon  me  in  his 
Return  through  this  Village  to  Tork,  fo  it 
has  laid  a  Week  or  ten  Days  by  me. 

I  am  not  forry  for  the  Difappoint- 

ment,  becaufe  fomething  has  fince  hap- 
pened, in  Continuation  of  this  Affair, 
which  I  am  thereby  enabled  to  tranfmit  to 
you,  all  under  one  Trouble. 

When  I  finiihed  the  above  Account,  I 
thought  (as  did  every  Soul  in  the  Parifh) 
Trim  had  met  with  fo  thorough  a  Rebuff 
from  John  the  Parifh-Clerk  and  the 
Town's  Folks,  who  all  took  againft  him, 
that  Trim  would  be  glad  to  be  quiet,  and 
let  the  Matter  reft. 

But,  it  feems,  it  is  not  half  an  Hour  ago 
fmce  Trim  fallied  forth  again;  and,  having 
borrowed  a  Sow-Gelder's  Horn,  with  hard 
Blowing  he  got  the  whole  Town  round 
him,  and  endeavoured  to  raife  a  Difturb- 
D  ance, 


[26] 

ance,  and  fight  the  whole  Battle  over 
again : —  That  he  had  been  ufed  in  the  laft 
Fray  worfe  than  a  Dog; —  not  by  John  the 
Parifh-Clerk,  —  for  I  fhou'd  not,  quoth 
Trim,  have  valued  him  a  Rum  fingle 
Hands: — ButalltheTownfidedwithhim, 
and  twelve  Men  in  Buckram  fet  upon  me 
all  at  once,  and  kept  me  in  Play  at  Sword's 
Point  for  three  Hours  together.  —  Befides, 
quoth  'Trim,  there  were  two  mifbegotten 
Knaves  in  Kendal  Green,  who  lay  all  the 
while  in  Ambufh  in  yobns  own  Houfe, 
and  they  all  fixteen  came  upon  my  Back, 
and  let  drive  at  me  together. —  A  Plague, 
fays  Trim,  of  all  Cowards! —  Trim  repeated 
this  Story  above  a  Dozen  Times  ; —  which 
made  fome  of  the  Neigbours  pity  him, 
thinking  the  poor  Fellow  crack-brain'd, 
and  that  he  actually  believed  what  he  faid. 
After  this  Trim  dropp'd  the  Affair  of 
the  Breeches,  and  begun  a  frefh  Difpute 
about  the  Reading-DeJkt  which  I  told  you 
had  occafioned  fome  fmall  Difpute  be- 
tween the  late  Parfon  and  John,  fome 
Years  ago. 

This  Reading-DeJk,  as  you  will  obferve, 
was  but  an  Epifode  wove  into  the  main 
Story  by  the  Bye ; —  for  the  main  Affair 

was 


was  the  Battle  of  the  Breeches  and  Great 
Watcb-Coat9  —  However,  Trim  being  at 
laft  driven  out  of  thefe  two  Citadels, —  he 
has  feized  hold,  in  his  Retreat,  of  this 
Reading-DeJk,  with  a  View,  as  it  feems, 
to  take  Shelter  behind  it. 

I  cannot  fay  but  the  man  has  fought  it 
out  obftinately  enough ; —  and,  had  his 
Caufe  been  good,  I  fhould  have  really  pi- 
tied him.  For  when  he  was  driven  out 
of  the  Great  Watch  Coat,  —  you  see,  he 
did  not  run  away ; —  no, —  he  retreated  be- 
hind the  Breeches ; —  and,  when  he  could 
make  nothing  of  it  behind  the  Breeches, — 
he  got  behind  the  Reading-Deft. — To  what 
other  Hold  Trim  will  next  retreat,  the 
Politicians  of  this  Village  are  not  agreed. — 
Some  think  his  next  Move  will  be  towards 
the  Rear  of  the  Parfon's  Boat ;  —  but,  as  it 
is  thought  he  cannot  make  a  long  Stand 
there,  —  others  are  of  Opinion,  That  Trim 
will  once  more  in  his  Life  get  hold  of  the 
Parfon's  Horfe,  and  charge  upon  him,  or 
perhaps  behind  him.  —  But  as  the  Horfe 
is  not  eafy  to  be  caught,  the  more  general 
Opinion  is,  That,  when  he  is  driven  out 
of  the  Reading-DeJk,  he  will  make  his  laft 
Retreat  in  fuch  a  Manner  as,  if  poffible, 
D  2  to 


[28] 

to  gain  the  Clofe- Stool,  and  defend  him- 
felf  behind  it  to  the  very  laft  Drop.  If 
Trim  fhould  make  this  Movement,  by  my 
Advice  he  fhould  be  left  befides  his  Cita- 
del, in  full  Pofleffion  of  the  Field  of 
Battle ; —  where,  'tis  certain,  he  will  keep 
every  Body  a  League  off,  and  may  pop  by 
himfelf  till  he  is  weary :  Befides,  as  Trim 
feems  bent  upon  purging  himfelf,  and  may 
have  Abundance  of  foul  Humours  to  work 
off,  I  think  he  cannot  be  better  placed. 

But  this  is  all  Matter  of  Speculation. — 
Let  me  carry  you  back  to  Matter  of  Fad:, 
and  tell  you  what  Kind  of  a  Stand  Trim 
has  adhially  made  behind  the  faid  Dejk. 

"  Neighbours  and  Townfmen  all,  I  will 
be  fworn  before  my  Lord  Mayor,  That 
John  and  his  nineteen  Men  in  Buckram, 
have  abufed  me  worfe  than  a  Dog ;  for  they 
told  you  that  I  play'd  faft  and  go-loose 
with  the  late  Parfon  and  him,  in  that  old 
Difpute  of  theirs  about  the  Reading-DeJk ; 
and  that  I  made  Matters  worfe  between 
them,  and  not  better." 

Of  this  Charge,  Trim  declared  he  was 
as  innocent  as  the  Child  that  was  unborn : 

That 


[•9] 

That  he  would  be  Book-fworn  he  had  no 
Hand  in  it.  He  produced  a  ftrong  Wit- 
nefs; —  and,  moreover,  infinuated,  that 
John  himfelf,  inftead  of  being  angry  for 
what  he  had  done  in  it,  had  actually 
thank'd  him.  Aye,  'Trim,  fays  the 
Wight  in  the  Plufh  Breeches,  but  that 
was,  Trim,  the  Day  before  John  found 
thee  out. —  Beiides,  Trim,  there  is  nothing 
in  that: — For,  the  very  Year  that  thou 
waft  made  Town's  Finder,  thou  knoweft 
well,  that  I  both  thank'd  thee  myfelf ;  and, 
moreover,  gave  thee  a  good  warm  Supper 
for  turning  John  Lund's  Cows  and  Horfes 
out  of  my  Hard-Corn  Clofe;  which  if 
thou  had' ft  not  done,  (as  thou  told'ft  me) 
I  fhould  have  loft  my  whole  Crop: 
Whereas,  John  Lund  and  Thomas  Patt, 
who  are  both  here  to  teftify,  and  will  take 
their  Oaths  on't,  That  thou  thyfelf  waft 
the  very  Man  who  fet  the  Gate  open;  and, 
after  all, —  it  was  not  thee  Trim, —  'twas 
the  Blackfmith's  poor  Lad  who  turn'd 
them  out :  So  that  a  Man  may  be  thank'd 
and  rewarded  too  for  a  good  Turn  which 
he  never  did,  nor  ever  olid  intend. 

Trim  could  not  fuftain  this  unexpected 
Stroke ; —  fo  Trim  march'd  off  the  Field, 

without 


[30] 


without  Colours  flying,  or  his  Horn  found- 
ing, or  any  other  Enfigns  of  Honour 
whatever. 

Whether  after  this  Trim  intends  to  rally 
a  fecond  Time, —  or  whether  Trim  may 
not  take  it  into  his  Head  to  claim  the  Vic- 
tory,—  no  one  but  Trim  himfelf  can  in- 
form you  : However,  the  general  Opi- 
nion, upon  the  whole,  is  this, That, 

in  three  feveral  pitch*  d  Battles,  Trim  has 
been  fo  trimm'd,  as  never  difaftrous  Hero 
was  trimm'd  before  him. 


THE 


[3-] 


THE     KEY. 

THIS  Romance  was,  by  fome  Mif- 
chance  or  other,  dropp'd  in  the 
Minfter-Tard,  Tork,  and  pick'd  up  by  a 
Member  of  a  fmall  Political  Club  in  that 
City ;  where  it  was  carried,  and  publickly 
read  to  the  Members  the  laft  Club  Night. 

It  was  inftantly  agreed  to,  by  a  great 
Majority,  That  it  was  a  Political  Romance  ; 
but  concerning  what  State  or  Potentate, 
could  not  fo  eafily  be  fettled  amongft  them. 

The  Prefident  of  the  Night,  who  is 
thought  to  be  as  clear  and  quick-fighted 
as  any  one  of  the  whole  Club  in  Things  of 
this  Nature,  difcovered  plainly,  That  the 
Difturbances  therein  fet  forth,  related  to 
thofe  on  the  Continent : —  That  Trim  could 
be  Nobody  but  the  King  of  France,  by 
whofe  fhifting  and  intriguing  Behaviour, 
all  Europe  was  fet  together  by  the  Ears : — 
That  Trim's  Wife  was  certainly  the  Em- 
prefst  who  are  as  kind  together,  fays  he, 
as  any  Man  and  Wife  can  be  for  their 

Lives. 


Lives. —  The  more  Shame  for  'em,  fays  an 
Alderman,  low  to  himfelf. —  Agreeable  to 
this  Key,  continues  the  Prefident,  —  The 
Parfon,  who  I  think  is  a  moft  excellent 
Character, —  is  His  Moft  Excellent  Ma- 
jefty  King  George ; — John,  the  Parifh- 
Clerk,  is  the  King  of  Prujfia  ;  who,  by  the 
Manner  of  hisfirft  entering  Saxony,  fhew'd 
the  World  moft  evidently,  —  That  he  did 
know  how  to  lead  out  the  Pfalm,  and  in 
Tune  and  Time  too,  notwithftanding 
Trim's  vile  Infult  upon  him  in  that  Parti- 
cular.—  But  who  do  you  think,  fays  a  Sur- 
geon and  Man-Midwife,  who  fat  next 
him,  (whofe  Coat-Button  the  Prefident, 
in  the  Earneftnefsof  this  Explanation,  had 
got  faft  hold  of,  and  had  thereby  partly 
drawn  him  over  to  his  Opinion)  Who  do 
you  think,  ME  Prefident,  fays  he,  are 
meant  by  the  Church- Wardens,  Sides- Men, 
Mark  Slender,  Lorry  Slim,  &c. —  Who  do 
I  think  ?  fays  he,  Why, —  Why,  Sir,  as  I 
take  the  Thing, —  the  Church-Wardens 
and  Sides-Men,  are  the  Electors  and  the 
other  Princes  who  form  the  Germanick 
Body. —  And  as  for  the  other  fubordinate 
Characters  of  Mark  Slim  ?  —  the  unlucky 
Wight  in  the  Plufh  Breeches, — the  Parfon's 

Man 


[33] 

Man  who  was  fo  often  out  of  the  Way, 

&c.  &c. these,  to  be  fure  are  the  fe- 

veral  Marjhah  and  Generals,  who  fought, 
or  fhould  have  fought,  under  them  the  laft 
Campaign.  —  The  Men  in  Buckram,  con- 
tinued the  Prefident,  are  the  Grofs  of  the 
King  of  PruJJids  Army,  who  was  zsftiff 
a  Body  of  Men  as  are  in  the  World : — And 
Trim's  faying  they  were  twelve,  and  then 
nineteen,  is  a  Wipe  for  the  BruJJels  Gazet- 
teer, who,  to  my  Knowledge,  was  never 
two  Weeks  in  the  fame  Story,  about  that 
or  any  thing  elfe. 

As  for  the  reft  of  the  Romance,  continu- 
ed the  Prefident,  it  fufficiently  explains  it- 
felf,— The  Old-caJl-Pair-of-Black-Plufh- 
Breeches  muft  be  Saxony,  which  the  Elec- 
tor, you  fee,  has  left  off  wearing : —  And 
as  for  the  Great  Watch-Coat,  which,  you 
know,  covers  all,  it  fignifies  all  Europe-, 
comprehending,  at  leaft,  fo  many  of  its 
different  States  and  Dominions,  as  we 
have  any  Concern  with  in  the  prefent 
War. 

I  proteft,  fays  a   Gentleman  who  fat 

next  but  one  to  the  Prefident,  and  who,  it 

feems,  was  the  Parfon  of  the  Parim,  a 

E  Mem- 


[34] 

Member  not  only  of  the  Political,  but  alfo 
of  a  Mufical  Club  in  the  next  Street ; — 
I  proteft,  fays  he,  if  this  Explanation  is 

right,  which  I  think  it  is, That  the 

whole  makes  a  very  fine  Symbol. You 

have  always  fome  Mufical  Inftrument  or 
other  in  your  Head,  I  think,  fays  the  Al- 
derman.  Mufical  Inftrument !  replies 

the  Parfon,  in  Aftonifhment,  —  Mr.  Alder- 
man, I  mean  an  Allegory ;  and  I  think  the 
greedy  Diipofition  of  Trim  and  his  Wife, 
in  ripping  the  Great  Watch-Coat  to  Pieces, 
in  order  to  convert  it  into  a  Petticoat  for 
the  one,  and  a  Jerkin  for  the  other,  is  one 
of  the  moft  beautiful  of  the  Kind  I  ever 
met  with ;  and  will  mew  all  the  World 
what  have  been  the  true  Views  and  Inten- 
tions of  the  Houfes  of  Bourbon  and  A u- 
Jiria  in  this  abominable  Coalition, —  I 
might  have  called  it  Whoredom : —  Nay, 
fays  the  Alderman,  'tis  downright  Adul- 
terydom,  or  nothing. 

This  Hypothefis  of  the  Prefident's  ex- 
plain'd  every  Thing  in  the  Romance  ex- 
treamly  well ;  and,  withall,  was  delivered 
with  fo  much  Readinefs  and  Air  of  Cer- 
tainty, as  begot  an  Opinion  in  two  Thirds 
of  the  Club,  that  M£  Prefident  was  adfcu- 

ally 


[35] 

ally  the  Author  of  the  Romance  himfelf : 
But  a  Gentleman  who  fat  on  the  oppoiite 
Side  of  the  Table,  who  had  come  piping- 
hot  from  reading  the  Hiftory  of  King  Wil- 
liam's and  Queen  Anne's  Wars,  and  who 
was  thought,  at  the  Bottom,  to  envy  the 
Preiident  the  Honour  both  of  the  Romance 
and  Explanation  too,  gave  an  entire  new 
Turn  to  it  all.  He  acquainted  the  Club, 
That  ME  Preiident  was  altogether  wrong 
in  every  Suppofition  he  had  made,  except 
that  one,  where  the  Great  Watch-Coat  was 
faid  by  him  to  reprefent  JLurope,  or  at  leaft  a 
great  Part  of  it : —  So  far  he  acknowledged 
he  was  pretty  right ;  but  that  he  had  not 
gone  far  enough  backwards  into  our  Hif- 
tory to  come  at  the  Truth.  He  then  ac- 
quainted them,  that  the  dividing  the  Great 
Watch-Coat  did,  and  could,  allude  to  no- 
thing else  in  the  World  but  the  Partition- 
Treaty  ;  which,  by  the  Bye,  he  told  them, 
was  the  moft  unhappy  and  fcandalous 
Tranfaction  in  all  King  William's  Life:  It 
was  that  falfe  Step,  and  that  only,  fays  he, 
riling  from  his  Chair,  and  ftriking  his  Hand 
upon  the  Table  with  great  Violence ;  it  was 
that  falfe  Step,  fays  he,  knitting  his  Brows 
E  2  and 


1 36] 

and  throwing  his  Pipe  down  upon  the 
Ground,  that  has  laid  the  Foundation  of  all 
the  Difturbances  and  Sorrows  we  feel  and 
lament  at  this  very  Hour ;  and  as  for  Trim's 
giving  up  the  Breeches,  look  ye,  it  is  al- 
moft  Word  for  Word  copied  from  the 
French  King  and  Dauphin's  Renunciation 
of  Spain  and  the  West-Indies,  which  all  the 
World  knew  (as  was  the  very  Cafe  of  the 
Breeches}  were  renounced  by  them  on  pur- 
pofe  to  be  reclaim'd  when  Time  mould 
ferve. 

This  Explanation  had  too  much  Inge- 
nuity in  it  to  be  altogether  flighted ;  and, 
in  Truth,  the  worft  Fault  it  had,  feem'd  to 
be  the  prodigious  Heat  of  it;  which  (as 
an  Apothecary,  who  fat  next  the  Fire,  ob- 
ferv'd,  in  a  very  low  Whilper  to  his  next 
Neighbour)  was  fo  much  incorporated  into 
every  Particle  of  it,  that  it  was  impoffible, 
under  fuch  Fermentation,  it  fhould  work 
its  defired  Effe<ft. 

This,  however,  no  way  intimidated  a 
little  valiant  Gentleman,  though  he  fat  the 
very  next  Man,  from  giving  an  Opinion  as 
diametrically  oppolite  as  Eaft  is  from  Weft. 

This 


[37] 

This  Gentleman,  who  was  by  much  the 
beft  Geographer  in  the  whole  Club,  and, 
moreover,  fecond  Coufin  to  an  Engineer, 
waspofitive  the  Breeches  meant  Gibraltar; 
for,  if  you  remember,  Gentlemen,  fays  he, 
tho'  poffibly  you  don't,  the  Ichnography 
and  Plan  of  that  Town  and  Fortrefs,  it 
exactly  refembles  a  Pair  of  Trunk-Hofe, 
the  two  Promontories  forming  the  two 
Slops,  &c.  &c. —  Now  we  all  know,  con- 
tinued he,  that  King  George  the  Firft  made 
a  Promife  of  that  important  Pafs  to  the 
King  of  Spam  : —  So  that  the  whole  Drift 
of  the  Romance,  according  to  my  Senfe  of 
Things,  is  merely  to  vindicate  the  King 
and  the  Parliament  in  that  Tranfaftion, 
which  made  fo  much  Noife  in  the  World. 

A  Wholefale  Taylor,  who  from  the 
Beginning  had  refolved  not  to  fpeak  at  all 
in  the  Debate, —  was  at  laft  drawn  into  it, 
by  fomething  very  unexpected  in  the  laft 
Perfon's  Argument. 

He  told  the  Company,  frankly,  he  did 
not  underftand  what  Ichnography  meant : 

But  as  for  the  Shape  of  a  Pair  of 

Breeches,  as  he  had  had  the  Advantage  of 
cutting  out  fb  many  hundred  Pairs  in  his 

Life- 


[38] 

Life-Time,  he  hoped  he  might  be  allowed 
to  know  as  much  of  the  Matter  as  another 
Man. 

Now,  to  my  Mind,  fays  he,  there  is 
nothing  in  all  the  Terraqueous  Globe  (a 
Map  of  which,  it  feems,  hung  up  in  his 
Work-Shop)  fo  like  a  Pair  of  Breeches 
unmade  up,  as  the  Ifland  of  Sicily : —  Nor 
is  there  any  thing,  if  you  go  to  that,  quoth 
an  honeft  Shoe-maker,  who  had  the  Ho- 
nour to  be  a  Member  of  the  Club,  fo  much 
like  a  Jack-Boot,  to  my  Fancy,  as  the 
Kingdom  of  Italy. —  What  the  Duce  has 
either  Italy  or  Sicily  to  do  in  the  Affair? 
cries  the  Prefident,  who  by  this  Time, 
began  to  tremble  for  his  Hypothefis, — 
What  have  they  to  do  ? —  Why,  anfwered 
the  Partition-Treaty  Gentleman,  with 
great  Spirit  and  Joy  fparkling  in  his  Eyes, — 
They  have  juft  fo  much,  Sir,  to  do  in  the 
Debate  as  to  overthrow  your  Suppofitions, 
and  to  eftablifh  the  Certainty  of  mine  be- 
yond the  Poffibility  of  a  Doubt :  For,  fays 
he,  (with  an  Air  of  Sovereign  Triumph 
over  the  Prefident 's  Politicks) —  By  the 
Partition-Treaty,  Sir,  both  Naples  and 
Sicily  were  the  very  Kingdoms  made  to 

devolve 


[  39  ] 

devolve  upon  the  Dauphin ; —  and  Trim's 
greajing  the  Parforfs  Boots,  is  a  Devilifh 
Satyrical  Stroke ;  for  it  expofes  the  Cor- 
ruption and  Bribery  made  Ufe  of  at  that 
Juncture,  in  bringing  over  the  feveral 
States  and  Princes  of  Italy  to  ufe  their  In- 
terefts  at  Rome,  to  flop  the  Pope  from  gi- 
ving the  Inveftitures  of  thofe  Kingdoms  to 
any  Body  elfe. —  The  Pope  has  not  the  In- 
veftiture  of  Sicily,  cries  another  Gentle- 
man.—  I  care  not,  fays  he,  for  that. 

Almoft  every  one  apprehended  the  De- 
bate to  be  now  ended,  and  that  no  one 
Member  would  venture  any  new  Conjec- 
ture upon  the  Romance,  after  fo  many  clear 
and  decifi  ve  Interpretations  had  been  given. 

But,  hold, Clofe  to  the  Fire,  and  op- 

pofite  to  where  the  Apothecary  fat,  there 
fat  alfo  a  Gentleman  of  the  Law,  who,  from 
the  Beginning  to  the  End  of  the  Hearing 
of  this  Caufe,  feem'd  no  way  fatiffied  in 
his  Confcience  with  any  one  Proceeding  in 
it.  This  Gentleman  had  not  yet  opened 
his  Mouth,  but  had  waited  patiently  till 
they  had  all  gone  thro'  their  feveral  Evi- 
dences on  the  other  Side ; —  referving  him- 
felf,  like  an  Expert  Practitioner,  for  the 
laft  Word  in  the  Debate.  When  the 

Par- 


[40] 

Gentleman  had  finifh'd 
what  he  had  to  fay, —  He  got  up, —  and, 
advancing  towards  the  Table,  told  them, 
That  the  Error  they  had  all  gone  upon 
thus  far,  in  making  out  the  feveral  Facts 
in  the  Romance, —  was  in  looking  too  high; 
which,  with  great  Candor,  he  faid,  was  a 
very  natural  Thing,  and  very  excufable 
withall,  in  fuch  a  Political  Club  as  theirs : 
For  Inftance,  continues  he,  you  have  been 
fearching  the  Regijlers,  and  looking  into 
the  Deeds  of  Kings  and  Emperors, —  as  if 
Nobody  had  any  Deeds  to  (hew  or  compare 

the  Romance  to  but  themfelves. This, 

continued  the  Attorney,  is  just  as  much 
out  of  the  Way  of  good  Practice,  as  if  I 
fhould  carry  a  Thing  flap-dafh  into  the 
Houfe  of  Lords,  which  was  under  forty 
Shillings,  and  might  be  decided  in  the  next 
County-Court  for  fix  Shillings  and  Eight- 
pence. —  He  then  took  the  Romance  in  his 
Left  Hand,  and  pointing  with  the  Fore- 
Finger  of  his  Right  towards  the  fecond 
Page,  he  humbly  begg'd  Leave  to  obferve, 
(and,  to  do  him  Juftice,  he  did  it  in  fome- 
what  of  nforenjic  Air}  That  the  Parfon, 
John,  and  Sexton,  ihewed  inconteftably 
the  Thing  to  be  Tripartite ;  now,  if  you 
will  take  Notice,  Gentlemen,  fays  he, 

thefe 


[+*] 

thefe  feveral  Perfons,  who  are  Parties  to 
this  Inftrument,  are  merely  Ecclefiaftical ; 
that  the  Reading-DeJk,  Pulpit-Cloth,  and 
Velvet  Cufhion,  are  tripartite  too ;  and  are, 
by  Intendment  of  Law,  Goods  and  Chat- 
ties merely  of  an  Ecclefiaftick  Nature,  be- 
longing and  appertaining* only  unto  them/ 
and  to  them  only. —  So  that  it  appears  very 
plain  to  me,  That  the  Romance,  neither 
dire&ly  nor  indirectly,  goes  upon  Tempo- 
ral, but  altogether  upon  Church- Matters. 
—  And  do  not  you  think,  fays  he,  foften- 
ing  his  Voice  a  little,  and  addreffing  him- 
felf  to  the  Parfon  with  a  forced  Smile, — 
Do  not  you  think  Dodtor,  fays  he,  That 
the  Difpute  in  the  Romance,  between  the 
Parfon  of  the  Parifh  and  John,  about  the 
Height  of  John's  Defk,  is  a  very  fine  Pa- 
negyrick  upon  the  Humility  of  Church- 
Men  ? —  I  think,  fays  the  Parfon,  it  is 
much  of  the  fame  Finenefs  with  that  which 
your  Profeffion  is  complimented  with,  in 
the  pimping,  dirty,  pettyfogging  Character 
of  Trim, —  which,  in  my  Opinion,  Sir,  is 
juft  fuch  another  Panegyrick  upon  the 
Honejty  ofAttornies. 

Nothing  whets  the  Spirits  like  an  In- 

fult : —  Therefore  the  Parfon  went  on  with 

F  a 


a  vifible  Superiority  and  an  uncommon 
Acutenefs. —  As  you  are  fo  happy,  Sir, 
continues  he,  in  making  Applications, — 
pray  turn  over  a  Page  or  two  to  the  black 
Law-Letters  in  the  Romance. —  What  do 
you  think  of  them,  Sir  ? —  Nay, —  pray 
read  the  Grant  of  the  Great  Watch-Coat — 
and  Trim's  Renunciation  of  the  Breeches, — 
Why,  there  is  downright  3teafc  and  JSelcaffc 
for  you, —  'tis  the  very  Thing,  Man ; — 
only  with  this  fmall  Difference, —  and  in 
which  confifts  the  whole  Strength  of  the 

Panegyric, That  the  Author  of  the 

Romance  has  convey' d  and  re-convey*  d  in 
about  ten  Lines, —  what  you,  with  the  glo- 
rious Prolixity  of  the  Law,  could  not  have 
crowded  into  as  many  Skins  of  Parch- 
ment. 

The  Apothecary,  who  had  paid  the  At- 
torney, the  fame  Afternoon,  a  Demand  of 
Three  Pounds  Six  Shillings  and  Eight- 
Pence,  for  much  fuch  another  Jobb, — 
was  fo  highly  tickled  with  the  Parfon's 
Repartee  in  that  particular  Point,  that 
he  rubb'd  his  Hands  together  moft  fer- 
vently,—  and  laugh' d  moft  triumphantly 
thereupon. 

This 


This  could  not  efcape  the  Attorney's 
Notice,  any  more  than  the  Caufe  of  it  did 
efcape  his  Penetration. 

I  think,  Sir,  fays  he  (dropping  his  Voice 
a  Third)  you  might  well  have  fpared  this 
immoderate  Mirth,  fince  you  and  your 
Profeffion  have  the  leaft  Reaibn  to  tri- 
umph here  of  any  of  us. —  I  beg,  quoth 
he,  that  you  would  reflect  a  Moment  up- 
on the  Cob- Web  which  Trim  went  lb  far 
for,  and  brought  back  with  an  Air  of  fo 
much  Importance  in  his  Breeches  Pocket, 
to  lay  upon  the  Parfon's  cut  Finger. — 
This  faid  Cob- Web,  Sir,  is  a  fine-fpun 
Satyre,  upon  the  flimfy  Nature  of  one 
Half  of  the  Shop  Medicines,  with  which 
you  make  a  Property  of  the  Sick,  the  Ig- 
norant, and  the  Unfufpecting. —  And  as 
for  the  Moral  of  the  Clofe- Stool-Pan,  Sir, 
't  is  too  plain, —  Does  not  nine  Parts  in 
ten  of  the  whole  Practice,  and  of  all  you 
vend  under  its  Colours,  pafs  into  and  con- 
center in  that  one  nafty  Utenfil  ? —  And 
let  me  tell  you,  Sir,  fays  he,  raifing  his 
Voice, —  had  not  your  unfeafonable  Mirth 
blinded  you,  you  might  have  feen  that 
Trim's  carrying  the  Clofe-Stool-Pan  upon 
his  Head  the  whole  Length  of  the  Town, 
F  2  without 


[44] 

without  blufhing,  is  a  pointed  Raillery, — 
and  one  of  the  fliarpeft  Sarcafms,  Sir,  that 
ever  was  thrown  out  upon  you ; —  for  it 
unveils  the  folemn  Impudence  of  the  whole 
Profeffion,  who,  I  fee,  are  aihamed  of  no- 
thing which  brings  in  Money. 

There  were  two  Apothecaries  in  the 
Club,  befides  the  Surgeon  mentioned  be- 
fore, with  a  chemift  and  an  Undertaker, 
who  all  felt  themfelves  equally  hurt  and 
aggrieved  by  this  difcourteous  Retort : — 
And  they  were  all  five  rifing  up  together 
from  their  Chairs,  with  full  Intent  of  Heart, 
as  it  was  thought,  to  return  the  Reproof  Va- 
liant thereupon. —  But  the  Prefident,  fear- 
ing it  would  end  in  a  general  Engagement, 
he  inftantly  calPd  out,  To  Order  \ — and 
gave  Notice,  That  if  there  was  any  Member 
in  the  Club,  who  had  not  yet  fpoke,  and 
yet  did  defire  to  fpeak  upon  the  main  Sub- 
ject of  the  Debate, —  that  he  fhould  im- 
mediately be  heard. 

This  was  a  happy  Invitation  for  a  ftam- 
mering  Member,  who,  it  feems,  had  but  a 
weak  Voice  at  the  beft;  and  having  often 
attempted  to  fpeak  in  the  Debate,  but  to 

no 


[45] 

no  Purpofe,  had  fat  down  in  utter  Defpair 
of  an  Opportunity. 

This  Member,  you  muft  know,  had  got 
a  fad  Crufh  upon  his  Hip,  in  the  late 
Election,  which  gave  him  intolerable  An- 
guifh  ; —  fo  that,  in  fhort,  he  could  think 
of  nothing  elfe : —  For  which  Caufe,  and 
others,  he  was  ftrongly  of  Opinion,  That 
the  whole  Romance  was  a  juft  Gird  at  the 
late  Tork  Election ;  and  I  think,  fays  he, 
that  the  Promife  of  the  Breeches  broke, 
may  well  and  truly  fignify  Somebody's  elfe 
Promife,  which  was  broke,  and  occafion'd 
fo  much  Difturbance  amongft  us. 

Thus  every  Man  turn'd  the  Story 

to  what  was  fwimming  uppermoft  in  his 
own  Brain ; —  fo  that,  before  all  was  over, 
there  were  full  as  many  Satyres  fpun  out 
of  it, —  and  as  great  a  Variety  of  Perfon- 
ages,  Opinions,  TranfacSions,  and  Truths, 
found  to  lay  hid  under  the  dark  Veil  of  its 
Allegory,  as  ever  were  difcovered  in  the 
thrice-renowned  Hiftory  of  the  Acts  of 
Gargantua  and  PantagrueL 

At  the  Clofe  of  all,  and  juft  before  the 
Club  was  going  to  break  up, —  Mr  Prefi- 

dent 


dent  rofe  from  his  Chair,  and  begg'd  Leave 
to  make  the  two  following  Motions,  which 
were  inftantly  agreed  to,  without  any 
Divifion. 

Firjt,  Gentlemen,  fays  he,  as  Trim's 
Character  in  the  Romance,  of  a  muffling 
intriguing  Fellow, —  whoever  it  was  drawn 
for,  is,  in  Truth,  as  like  the  French  King 
as  it  can  ftare, 1  move,  That  the  Ro- 
mance be  forthwith  printed:  For,  conti- 
nues he,  if  we  can  but  once  turn  the 
Laugh  againft  him,  and  make  him  amam'd 
of  what  he  has  done,  it  may  be  a  great 
Means,  with  the  Bleffing  of  God  upon  our 
Fleets  and  Armies,  to  fave  the  Liberties  of 
Europe. 

In  the  fecond  Place,  I  move,  That 
Mf  Attorney,  our  worthy  Member,  be 
defired  to  take  Minutes,  upon  the  Spot,  of 
every  Conje&ure  which  has  been  made 
upon  the  Romance,  by  the  feveral  Mem- 
bers who  have  fpoke ;  which,  I  think, 
fays  he,  will  anfwer  two  good  Ends : 

iA  It  will  eftablifh  the  Political  Know- 
ledge of  our  Club  for  ever,  and  place  it  in 
a  refpe&able  Light  to  all  the  World. 

In 


[47] 

In  the  next  Place,  it  will  furnifh  what 
will  be  wanted;  that  is,  a  Key  to  the  Ro- 
mance.  In  troth  you  might  have  faid  a 

whole  Bunch  of  Keys,  quoth  a  White- 
fmith,  who  was  the  only  Member  in  the 
Club  who  had  not  faid  fomething  in  the 
Debate :  But  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Prefi- 
dent,  fays  he,  That  the  Right  Key,  if  it 
could  but  be  found,  would  be  worth  the 
whole  Bunch  put  together. 


To 


[49] 

To ,  Eft; 

of  YORK. 

SIR, 

YOU  write  me  Word  that  the  Letter 
I  wrote  to  you,  and  now  ftiled  The 
Political  Romance  is  printing ;  and  that, 
as  it  was  drop'd  by  Careleflhefs,  to  make 
fome  Amends,  you  will  overlook  the 
Printing  of  it  yourfelf,  and  take  Care  to 
fee  that  it  comes  right  into  the  World. 

I  was  juft  going  to  return  you  Thanks, 
and  to  beg,  withal,  you  would  take  Care 
That  the  Child  be  not  laid  at  my  Door. — 
But  having,  this  Moment,  perufed  the 
Reply  to  the  Dean  of  York's  Anfwer, —  it 
has  made  me  alter  my  Mind  in  that  re- 
fpecl: ;  fo  that,  inftead  of  making  you  the 
Requeft  I  intended,  I  do  here  deiire  That 
the  Child  be  filiated  upon  me,  Laurence 
Sterne,  Prebendary  of  York,  &c.  &c.  And 
I  do,  accordingly,  own  it  for  my  own  true 
and  lawful  Offspring. 

My  Reafon  for  this  is  plain ; —  for  as, 
you  fee,  the  Writer  of  that  Reply,  has  ta- 
ken upon  him  to  invade  this  incontejted 
G  Right 


[So] 

Right  of  another  Man's  in  a  Thing  of  this 
Kind,  it  is  high  Time  for  every  Man  to 
look  to  his  own  —  Since,  upon  the  fame 
Grounds,  and  with  half  the  Degree  of  An- 
ger, that  he  affirms  the  Production  of  that 
very  Reverend  Gentleman's  to  be  the  Child 
of  many  Fathers,  fome  one  in  his  Spight 
(for  I  am  not  without  my  Friends  of  that 
Stamp)  may  run  headlong  into  the  other 
Extream,  and  fwear,  That  mine  had  no 
Father  at  all :  —  And  therefore,  to  make 
ufe  of  Bay's  Plea  in  the  Rebearfal,  for 
Prince  Pretty-Man ;  I  merely  do  it,  as 
he  fays,  "  for  fear  it  fhould  be  faid  to  be 
"  no  Body's  Child  at  all." 

I  have  only  to  add  two  Things :  —  Firft, 
That,  at  your  Peril,  you  do  not  prefume 
to  alter  or  tranfpofe  one  Word,  nor  rectify 
one  falfe  Spelling,  nor  fo  much  as  add  or 
diminim  one  Comma  or  Tittle,  in  or  to  my 
Romance  :  For  if  you  do,  —  In  cafe  any 
of  the  Defcendents  of  Curl  fhould  think 
fit  to  invade  my  Copy-Right,  and  print  it 
over  again  in  my  Teeth,  I  may  not  be  able, 
in  a  Court  of  Juftice,  to  fwear  ftrictly 
to  my  own  Child,  after  you  hadyi  large 
a  Share  in  the  begetting  it. 

In 


[5'] 

In  the  next  Place,  I  do  not  approve  of 
your  quaint  Conceit  ^  the/  Foot  -bf  the 
Title  Page  of  my  Romance,—  It  \woujd 
only  fet  People  on  fmiling  a  Page  or  two 
before  I  give  them  Leave ; —  and  befides, 
all  Attempts  either  at  Wit  or  Humour, 
in  that  Place,  are  a  Foreftalling  of  what 
flender  Entertainment  of  thofe  Kinds  are 
prepared  within :  Therefore  I  would  have 
it  ftand  thus: 

YORK: 

Printed  in  the  Year  1759. 
(Price  One  Shilling.} 

I  know  you  will  tell  me,  That  it  is  fet 
too  high;  and  as  a  Proof,  you  will  fay, 
That  this  laft  Reply  to  the  Dean's  Anfwer 
does  confift  of  near  as  many  Pages  as  mine; 
and  yet  is  all  fold  for  Six-pence. —  But 
mine,  my  dear  Friend,  is  quite  a  different 
Story : —  It  is  a  Web  wrought  out  of  my 
own  Brain,  of  twice  the  Finenefs  of  this 
which  he  has  fpun  out  of  his ;  and  befides, 
I  maintain  it,  it  is  of  a  more  curious  Pat- 
tern, and  could  not  be  afforded  at  the 
Price  that  his  is  fold  at,  by  any  bonejl 
Workman  in  Great- Britain. 

G  2  More- 


Moreover,  Sir,  you  do  not  confider, 
That  the  Writer  is  iriterefted  in  his  Story, 
and  that  it  is*  his  Bufinefs  to  fet  it  a-going 
at  any  Price :  And  indeed,  from  the  Infor- 
mation of  Perfons  converfant  in  Paper  and 
Print,  I  have  very  good  Reafon  to  believe, 
if  he  fhould  fell  every  Pamphlet  of  them, 
he  would  inevitably  be  a  Great  Lofer  by  it, 
This  I  believe  verily,  and  am, 

Dear  Sir, 

Tour  obliged  Friend 

Sutton  on  the  Foreft, 

Jan.  20,  1759.  and  humble  Servant, 

LAURENCE  STERNE. 


[53] 


SIR, 

THOUGH  the  Reply  to  the  Dean  of 
Tork  is  not  declared,  in  the  Title- 
Page,  or  elfewhere,  to  be  wrote  by  you, 

—  Yet  I  take  that  Point  for  granted  ;  and 
therefore  beg  Leave,  in  this  public  Man- 
ner, to  write  to  you  in  Behalf  of  myfelf  ; 
with  Intent  to  fet  you  right  in  two  Points 
where  I  ftand  concerned  in  this  Affair;  and 
which  I  find  you  have  mifapprehended,  and 
confequently  (as  I  hope)  mifreprefented. 

The  Firft  is,  in  refpecSt  of  fome  Words, 
made  ufe  of  in  the  Inftrument,  figned  by 
D^  Herring,  Mr  Berdmore  and  myfelf. 

—  Namely,  to  the  bejl  of  our  Remembrance 
and  Belief,  which  Words  you  have  caught 
hold  of,  as  implying  fome  Abatement  of 
our  Certainty  as  to  the  Fafts  therein  at- 
tefted.    Whether  it  was  fo  with  the  other 
two  Gentlemen  who  figned  that  Attefta- 
tion  with  me,  it  is  not  for  me  to  fay;  they 
are  able  to  anfwer  for  themfelves,  and  I  de- 
fire  to  do  fo  for  myfelf;  and  therefore  I  de- 
clare to  you,  and  to  all  Mankind,  "  That 
"the  Words  in  the  firft  Paragraph,  to  the 

"bejl 


[54] 


"beji  of  our  Remembrance  and  Belief,  im- 
plied no  Doubt  remaining  upon  my  Mind, 
nor  any  Diftruft  whatever  of  my  Memo- 
ry, from  the  Diftance  of  Time  ; —  Nor,  in 
fhort,  was  it  my  Intention  to  atteft  the 
feveral  Fafts  therein,  as  matters  of  Be- 
lief—  But  as  Matters  of  as  much  Certain- 
ty as  a  Man  was  capable  of  having,  or  gi- 
ving Evidence  to.  In  Confequence  of  this 
Explanation  of  myfelf,  I  do  declare  my- 
felf  ready  to  atteft  the  fame  Inftrument 
over  again,  ftriking  out  the  words  to  the 
beji  of  our  Remembrance  and  Belief,  which 
I  fee,  have  raifed  this  Exception  to  it. 

Whether  I  was  miftaken  or  no,  I  leave 
to  better  Judges ;  but  I  understood  thofe 
Words  were  a  very  common  Preamble  to 
Atteftations  of  Things,  to  which  we  bore 
the  cleareft  Evidence : —  However,  DF 
Top  ham,  as  you  have  claimed  juft  fuch 
another  Indulgence  yourfelf,  in  the  Cafe  of 
begging  the  Dean's  Authority  to  fay,  what, 
as  you  affirm,  you  had  fufficient  Autho- 
rity to  fay  without,  as  a  modeft  and  Gen- 
tleman-like Way  of  Affirmation ; —  I  wifh 
you  had  fpared  either  the  one  or  the  other 
of  your  Remarks  upon  thefe  two  Paflages: 
— Veniam  petimus,  demufque  vicijfim. 

There 


[55] 

There  is  another  Obfervation  relating  to 
this  Inftrument,  which  I  perceive  has 
efcaped  your  Notice;  which  I  take  the 
Liberty  to  point  out  to  you,  namely,  That 
the  Words,  To  the  beji  of  our  Remembrance 
and  Belief,  if  they  imply  any  Abatement 
of  Certainty,  feem  only  confined  to  that 
Paragraph,  and  to  what  is  immediately  at- 
tefted  after  them  in  it : —  For  in  the  fecond 
Paragraph,  wherein  the  main  Points  are 
minutely  attefted,  and  upon  which  the 
whole  Difpute,  and  main  Charge  againft 
the  Dean,  turns,  it  is  introduced  thus : 

"  We  do  particularly  remember.  That  as 
"  fbon  as  Dinner  was  over,  &c  " 

In  the  fecond  Place  you  affirm,  "  That 
"  it  is  not  faid,  That  Mf  Sterne  could 
"  affirm  he  had  heard  you  charge  the 
"  Dean  with  a  Promife,  in  its  own  Na- 
"  ture  fo  very  extraordinary,  as  of  the 
"  Commiflaryfhip  of  the  Dean  and  Chap- 

"  ter!" To  this  I  anfwer,  that  my 

true  Intent  in  fubfcribing  that  very  In- 
ftrument, and  I  fuppofe  of  others,  was  to 
atteft  this  very  Thing  ;  and  I  have  juft  now 
read  that  Part  of  the  Inftrument  over ; 
and  cannot,  for  my  Life,  affirm  it  either 
more  dire&ly  or  exprefly,  than  in  .the 

Words 


[56] 

Words  as  they  there  ftand ; —  therefore 
pleafe  to  let  me  tranfcribe  them. 

"But  being  prefPd  by  M^   Sterne 

"  with  an  undeniable  Proof,  That  he, 
"  (Dr.  Top  bam}  did  propagate  the  faid 
"  Story,  (viz:  of  a  Promife  from  the  Dean 
"  to  Dr.  Topham  of  the  Dean  and  Chap- 
"  ter's  Commiffaryjhip)  —  D^  Topham  did 
"  at  laft  acknowledge  it ;  adding,  as  his 
"  Reafon  or  Excufe  for  fo  doing,  That  he 
"  apprehended  (or  Words  to  that  Effect) 
"  he  had  a  Promife  under  the  Dean's  own 
"  Hand,  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter's  Com- 
"  miffaryjhip" 

This  I  have  attefted,  and  what  Weight 
the  Sanction  of  an  Oath  will  add  to  it,  I 
am  willing  and  ready  to  give. 

As  for  MT.  Ricard's  feeble  Atteftation, 
brought  to  (hake  the  Credit  of  this  firm 
and  folemn  one,  I  have  nothing  to  fay  to  it, 
as  it  is  only  an  Atteftation  of  M^  Ricard's 
Conjectures  upon  the  Subject. —  But  this  I 
can  fay,  That  I  had  the  Honour  to  be  at 
the  Deanery  with  the  learned  Counfel, 
when  MT.  Ricard  underwent  that  moji 
formidable  Examination  you  fpeak  of; — 

and 


[57] 


and  I  folemnly  affirm,  That  he  then  faid, 
He  knew  nothing  at  all  about  the  Matter, 
one  Way  or  the  other;  and  the  Reafons 
he  gave  for  his  utter  Ignorance,  were,  firft, 
That  he  was  then  fo  full  of  Concern,  at 
the  Difference  which  arofe  between  two 
Gentlemen,  both  his  Friends,  that  he  did 
not  attend  to  the  Subject  Matter  of  it, — 
and  of  which  he  declared  again  he  knew 
nothing  at  all.  And  fecondly,  If  he  had 
underftood  it  then,  the  Diftance  would 
have  put  it  out  of  his  Head  by  this  Time. 

He  has  fince  fcower'd  his  Memory,  I 
ween ;  for  now  he  fays,  That  he  appre- 
hended the  Difpute  regarded  fomething  in 
the  Dean's  Gift,  as  he  could  not  naturally 
fuppofe,  &c.  'Tis  certain,  at  the  Deanery, 
he  had  naturally  no  Suppofitions  in  his 
Head  about  this  Affair;  fo  that  I  wifh  this 
may  not  prove  one  of  the  After-Thoughts 
you  Ipeak  of,  and  not  fo  much  a  natural 
as  an  artificial  Suppofition  of  my  good 
Friend's. 

As  for  the  formidable  Enquiry  you  re- 

prefent  him  as  undergoing, — let  me  intreat 

you  to  give  me  Credit  in  what  I  fay  upon 

it, —  namely, —  That  it  was  as  much  the 

H  Re- 


Reverfe  to  every  Idea  that  ever  was 
couch' d  under  that  Word,  as  Words  can 
reprefent  it  to  you.  As  for  the  learned 
Counfel  and  myfelf,  who  were  in  the 
Room  all  the  Time,  I  do  not  remember 
that  we,  either  of  us,  fpoke  ten  Words. 
The  Dean  was  the  only  one  that  afk'd  Mr. 
Ricard  what  he  remembered  about  the 
Affair  of  the  Seffions  Dinner  ;  which  he 
did  in  the  moft  Gentleman-like  and  candid 
Manner, —  and  with  an  Air  of  as  much 
Calmnefs  and  feeming  Indifference,  as  if 
he  had  been  questioning  him  about  the 
News  in  the  laft  Bruffels  Gazette. 

What  Mr.  Ricard  faw  to  terrify  him  fo 
fadly,  I  cannot  apprehend,  unlefs  the 
Dean's  Gothic  Book-Cafe, —  which  I  own 
has  an  odd  Appearance  to  a  Stranger ; 
fb  that  if  he  came  terrified  in  his  Mind 
there,  and  with  a  Refolution  not  to  plead, 
he  might  naturally  fuppofe  it  to  be  a  great 
Engine  brought  there  on  purpofe  to  exer- 
cife  the  Peine  fort  et  dure  upon  him. — 
But  to  be  ferious  ;  if  Mr.  Ricard  told  you, 
That  this  Enquiry  was  moji  formidable, 
He  was  much  to  blame ; —  and  if  you  have 
faid  it,  without  his  exprefs  Information, 
then  Tou  are  much  to  blame. 

This 


[59] 


This  is  all,  I  think,  in  your  Reply,  which 
concerns  me  to  anfwer : —  As  for  the  many 
coarfe  and  unchriftian  Infinuations  fcatter'd 
throughout  your  Reply, —  as  it  is  my  Duty 
to  beg  God  to  forgive  you,  fo  I  do  from 
my  Heart:  Believe  me,  Df  Topham,  they 
hurt  yourfelf  more  than  the  Perfon  they 
are  aimed  at ;  and  when  the^>y?  Tranf- 
port  of  Rage  is  a  little  over,  they  will 
grieve  you  more  too. 

prim  a  ejl  h<zc  Ultio. 

But  thefe  I  hold  to  be  no  anfwerable  Part 
of  a  Controverfy  ; —  and  for  the  little  that 
remains  unanfwered  in  yours, —  I  believe  I 
could,  in  another  half  Hour,  fet  it  right 
in  the  Eyes  of  the  World. —  But  this  is 
not  my  Bufinefs. —  And  if  it  is  thought 
worth  the  while,  which  I  hope  it  never 
will,  I  know  no  one  more  able  to  do  it 
than  the  very  Reverend  and  Worthy  Gen- 
tleman whom  you  have  fo  unhandfomely 
infulted  upon  that  Score. 

As  for  the  fuppofed  Compilers,  whom 
you  have  been  fo  wrath  and  fo  unmerciful 
againft,  I  '11  be  anfwerable  for  it,  as  they 
are  Creatures  of  your  own  Fancy,  they 
will  bear  you  no  Malice.  However,  I 
H  2  think 


[6o] 

think  the  more  pofitively  any  Charge  is 
made,  let  it  be  againft  whom  it  will,  the 
better  it  fhould  be  fupported ;  and  there- 
fore I  fhould  be  forry,  for  your  own  Ho- 
nour, if  you  have  not  fbme  better  Grounds 
for  all  you  have  thrown  out  about  them, 
than  the  mere  Heat  of  your  Imagination 
or  Anger.  To  tell  you  truly,  your  Suppo- 
fitions  on  this  Head  oft  put  me  in  Mind  of 
Trim's  twelve  Men  in  Buckram,  which  his 
difordered  Fancy  reprefented  as  laying  in 
Ambum  in  John  the  Clerk's  Houfe,  and 
letting  drive  at  him  all  together.  I  am, 
SIR 

Tour  moji  obedient 

Sutton  on  the  Foreft  | 

Jan.  20, 1759.       j   Andmoji  humble  Servant, 

LAWRENCE  STERNE. 

P.  S.  I  beg  Pardon  for  clapping  this  upon 
the  Back  of  the  Romance,  —  which  is  done 
out  of  no  Difrefpect  to  you.  —  But  the  Ve- 
hicle flood  ready  at  the  Door,  —  and  as  I 
was  to  pay  the  whole  Fare,  and  there  was 
Room  enough  behind  it,  —  it  was  the 
cheapeft  and  readieft  Conveyance  I  could 
think  of. 

FINIS. 


One  hundred  and  twenty-five  copies  printed 
for  THE  CLUB  OF  ODD  VOLUMES,  Boston, 
in  the  month  of  October,  1914. 

BRUCE  ROGERS. 


Yf 
2.3 
Kfc 


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